Trials of World War I (YLOFA)
by Sara K M
Summary: AH. Married for a couple of years, Carlisle and Esme are taking care of their baby, Edward, when United States enters World War I. How will the "Great War" affect their relationship?
1. 1 To go or not to go?

**Trials of World War I (YLOFA)**

Chapter One: To go or not to go?

 **Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Twilight.**_

 **This is a sequel to "Young Love in Old – Fashioned America." I'm trying to write it so you can read this one without reading the last one, though. (Although I'd love if you wanted to read the first one, of course.)**

 **Warning # 1: This is a story about** _ **war.**_ **The characters are going to have some permanent damages from it. There will even be some deaths, so prepare yourself for that. (I will** _ **not**_ **kill Carlisle or Esme, though.)**

 **Warning # 2, Especially to my German readers: This story portrays Germans very negatively. Please understand that** _ **I**_ **don't have any problems with Germans. Nor do I believe that the Germans were** _ **only**_ **ones responsible** **for World War I, even though that's what this story will imply. This simply represents the attitude that most Americans had about Germans at this time. I'm only putting the story in the historical context of this period. However, if it bothers you too much, I understand if you don't want to read this story.**

 **Oh, and for those that don't know**

 **XXXXXXXXXX is POV change**

 **OOOOOOOOO is time change**

Carlisle Cullen arrived home at 5:30PM. He was greeted by the delicious smell of brown sugar ham baking in the oven. His mouth watered at the thought. Esme's food was always great. But where was she? Usually Esme greeted Carlisle when he came home. Confused, he hung up his outdoor coat.

A couple of minutes later, his question was answered when Esme came down the creaky stairs holding their three – month – old baby. "I'm sorry Carlisle," she told him as their eyes met. "Edward chose the wrong time to make a stink."

Carlisle nodded. That made sense. Edward could poop at the most inopportune times. "Well, it was confusing for a second, but I'll forgive the little man. After all, he's so handsome, who wouldn't forgive him?" Carlisle leaned over and kissed Edward's forehead.

Edward "ahhhed" in reply.

Esme smiled. "Yes, I think he's so handsome we'll forgive him for anything." She stroked their son's cheek. "But of course he's handsome, with you as his father, Carlisle," she added, looking into his eyes again. "Especially with your doctor's coat on." She fingered the white coat he was still wearing, mostly for her benefit. "I'm glad I'm able to see you wear it often now."

Carlisle nodded, enjoying her attention. Esme was so supportive of his career. "Thank you. I think you look wonderful, too." She did, dressed in a navy blue floor – length skirt and a green and blue stripped blouse. He leaned over and kissed her, softly.

Esme smiled at him. "Thank you, but I'm not wearing anything fancy. Just normal clothes."

"You look wonderful in anything, Esme. And speaking of wonderful, the dinner smells amazing. It's making my mouth water."

Esme smiled and placed Edward on the rug on the living room floor. "Speaking of dinner, I should look at it again."

Carlisle nodded and sat down in the large chair in the corner and watched Edward look around. He thought for a minute, then pulled his keys out of his pocket. "Here Edward," Carlisle told his son as he set them on the floor in front of the baby. Edward began examining each key carefully.

Confident that Edward was all right, Carlisle picked up the newspaper. The headlines, once again, were about the war in Europe. The people in Washington had recently decided America should entire the "Great War," as they were calling it, as well. Most American's, however, agreed it was Europeans business, not theirs. There were many editorials explaining that fact. According today's paper, there were even some men put in jail for trying to avoid the draft, which was supposed to be put in place in June.

Personally, Carlisle agreed that the United States didn't really belong there. He'd never been comfortable war in the first place. After all, the Bible said "turn the other cheek" (Mt 5:39) and "those who take up the sword will die by the sword." (Mt 26:52). It seemed to Carlisle that meant the Lord didn't approve of war. Even if what the Germans were doing was wrong, how could _more fighting_ help the situation? If Europeans believed they needed to fight, that was their business. Carlisle would never try anything illegal to stay out of the war, of course. But he hoped by staying quiet and working hard at the hospital, he could stay out of it.

However, Carlisle's situation was complicated because his father, Rev. Cullen, _firmly_ believed in the war. He claimed that the war would "make the world safe for democracy," and that the Lord endorsed it because it was for a just cause. Father had visited Carlisle and written Carlisle several letters within the last month and a half to try to convince his son to join the military. "You need to do the honorable thing, Carlisle." "I would go myself, but I'm too old. You must go to Europe in my place." "Carlisle, as doctor you wouldn't even have to do any fighting. Just take care of the injured soldiers." "Did you know since you're already a full doctor, they'd start you out as an officer? Just think, my son, a lieutenant!"

Carlisle _didn't_ want to do something he believed was wrong. And he did believe the war was wrong. Still, he wished to please Father, too. He and Father had grown quite close, since Father helped him through his first son's death. But Carlisle still remembered what their relationship was like before. What if Father rejected Carlisle completely again, like he had after Carlisle had decided to become a doctor instead of a minister? Carlisle had become used to having his father in his life again in the last couple of years. He _refused_ to do something that would cause Father to disappear from his life again. And what about Edward? Carlisle didn't want Edward to grow up without one of his grandfathers.

Carlisle couldn't even depend on his mentor this time if Father left him again. Dr. Aro Pinero was still a great doctor, but Carlisle didn't approve of his personal choices anymore. The man still treated Esme like she wasn't worthy of Carlisle and even implied Carlisle should "try another woman" when Esme was busy. Such an idea was disgusting and Carlisle avoided his old mentor whenever possible now. Carlisle also remembered the night Dr. Pinero took Carlisle to the saloon a few years ago. His behavior that night still made Carlisle shutter. But Dr. Pinero still went to the saloon at least once a week. Sometimes even two or three times. Who knew what that man was doing once he started drinking?

Carlisle finally put the newspaper down. None of this mattered right now. He was simply going to have a nice dinner with Esme and focus on their immediate family. Carlisle looked back at Edward, who was wiggling the key ring so the keys jiggled. He seemed delighted by the noise. "I suppose that key ring _is_ musical, Edward. I never noticed that," Carlisle told his son, smiling.

Esme came back in and picked Edward up. "Have you discovered a new instrument, now?" she asked her son.

Carlisle laughed. "Edward will be the first to _play_ the keys!"

"Definitely. Are you ready for dinner, Carlisle?"

"Of course. The ham looks amazing, and so do the potatoes," Carlisle told Esme as they sat down at the round, wooden table that Esme's father had given them when they were married.

"Thank you," Esme replied smiling. "What is in the newspaper today?"

Carlisle shrugged. "More about the war and how most Americans don't want to be involved even though Washington says we have to be. I don't want to think about that right now. You can read it yourself if you want to." He took a bite of ham. Amazing, just like always.

Esme nodded as she took a drink of milk. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up a tough subject. But I might look at the paper later tonight. Did anything happen at work?"

Carlisle shook his head. "Nothing worth mentioning. I was wondering if you might like to go to a motion picture with me at the theater next week, though. We haven't gone out since Edward was born. Even before that, really."

Esme looked at their son, lying in his portable wicker basket nearby. Then she looked back at Carlisle. "I don't know. What would we do about Edward?"

"I thought we could bring him to your parents' house. Your mother would love to take care of him for a couple of hours. You know that, Esme. And Amy, your Brother Alan's new wife, would probably like to help, too." Alan and Amy lived near Esme's parents, on the same farmland. Amy was four months pregnant with her first child.

Still, Esme looked uncertain. "My parents live outside the city, Carlisle. What if something happened to Edward?"

Carlisle smiled and took her hand from across the table. "Edward will be fine, Esme. Your mother _knows_ how to take care of a baby. And your parents even have a telephone now. So if something _did_ happen, they could call the movie theater to let us know."

Esme stared at her dinner for a few minutes.

Carlisle sighed. He suspected Esme would be nervous about leaving Edward for the first time, but apparently it was more difficult than he'd thought. "I thought it would be a good idea for us to do something together, Esme. You know, without the baby. But if you're not ready to leave him, perhaps we could try another time." With that he put some potato in his mouth.

Esme squeezed Carlisle's hand from across the table. "No, Carlisle you're right. It would be good to do something, just the two of us. And Edward will be fine with my mother. I like seeing motion pictures with you."

Carlisle smiled at her. "Wonderful."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOOOO

Esme and Carlisle had just finished an early dinner so they could have enough time to drive Edward to Esme's family farm and still make it to the motion picture. Esme hoped she'd provided her mother with everything she'd need to take care of Edward. She'd packed several packages of glass bottles and that new powered formula for infants in case he got hungry. Edward still preferred her breasts, but sometimes these bottles and formula came in handy. Esme had also packed ten diapers and three new outfits for Edward in case he made messes. "Do you think Edward has everything he needs?" she asked Carlisle.

Carlisle smiled at her and at Edward. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Try to just enjoy the evening, all right?" he encouraged her as he pulled the reins so the horses would turn left.

Esme nodded. She _was_ looking forward to spending the evening with just Carlisle. She loved her husband, after all. He had even found a motion picture with an interesting – sounding story for them to watch. "The Land of Promise," wasn't that the name of it?

Esme looked at Edward again, snuggled up in his portable wicker basket. _He'll be fine,_ she told herself. _Mother_ knows _how to take care of babies._

Carlisle told the horses to turn again, this time onto the farm. The Platt farm was _much_ bigger than it had been a few years ago. Father was no longer worried about losing the farm. His wheat and corn were in great demand because they supplied meals for the soldiers in Europe. Esme knew Carlisle hated the idea of war, and she could understand why he felt that way. But personally, she thought helping the Allied forces win the war might be a good idea. Helping them was certainly a good thing for Father.

Eventually, Esme and Carlisle arrived at the white farmhouse with a big porch. "Hello, Esme. Carlisle," Father greeted them, as he answered the door. "It's good to see you."

"It's pleasant to see you as well," Carlisle agreed.

Mother came running in from the kitchen, where she'd been doing dishes. "I'm all finished with tonight's dishes. How's Edward? Can I hold him?"

Esme carefully picked up her son and slowly handed him to her mother.

"Hello Edward!" Mother greeted the baby. Edward stretched, yawned, and then opened his eyes. He looked at Mother for a second, then he looked back at Esme and seemed satisfied. "You're going to have fun with Grandma tonight, you know that?" Mother continued to talk to the baby as she sat down in her old rocking chair.

Esme began to relax. Edward would be all right here. She sat down on the grey couch so they could continue to talk. "There are some diapers in here," she told her mother handing her one bag. "And some extra clothes in here," she continued holding out another bag. "And I hope he doesn't get hungry, but if he does, there's some of those glass bottles and that new powered formula in here," Esme finished holding out a third bag.

Mother nodded, then suddenly she screamed, "Timmy! Get your marbles off the living room floor. I told you not to leave them there today. Edward could choke on them."

Esme shook her head as her youngest brother came downstairs and picked them up.

Carlisle looked at Esme for a second, seeming to say "See? Your mother knows how to take care of children."

Esme nodded back at him. He was right.

Mother shook her head. "I'm glad I still have _some_ boys to take care of here," she commented. "Did you know Junior has decided to join the army?"

Esme shook her head. "No, I hadn't heard about that." She had just been thinking helping the Allies win the war was a good idea, but she hadn't expected her oldest brother to be involved so directly.

Mother shook her head. "It might be good for him, I suppose. He keeps changing his mind on what he wants to do. Farm hand. Owning his own farm out west somewhere. Working in a factory. Perhaps the discipline and the honor of helping our country…I don't know. I just wish he hadn't signed up so quickly."

Esme shared the sentiment. "When will he be leaving?"

"He told me he's expected to report to a base in Texas next week."

Esme made a mental note to see Junior before he left.

"Well, Esme, we should be leaving if we don't want to miss the motion picture," Carlisle commented, interrupting her thoughts.

Esme looked at Edward one more time. He looked happy enough with her mother. _He'll be fine,_ she reminded herself again. "All right," she replied, standing up and taking Carlisle's hand.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Before the motion picture began, Esme and Carlisle also viewed an informative "four – minute men" speech about the war. These men explained why it was so necessary for the United States to enter the Great War. They showed how Germany had been sinking too many ships, some of them owned and operated by Americans. The worst was when they sank the Lusitania which was a _passenger ship_ which many Americans were on. Esme had heard of these things before, of course, from the newspaper. But somehow she'd never thought about how serious it was until these four – minute mean on the viewing screen explained it. All those innocent people on that ship. Women. Even children. Screaming for help as they realized their ship was sinking and there was nothing they could do. Some were able to escape on lifeboats, but many more drowned. All because the Germans used their U – boats. "It is absolutely necessary for the United States to help make the world safe for democracy," the four – minute men explained. "Otherwise, think of what will happen." Ships on the screen all over the world disappeared, as German U – boats drowned them _all._ Then the four – minute men finished with a horrifying picture of the _whole world_ being swallowed up by the German Empire. People who knew nothing about life and freedom.

After watching this informative film, Esme understood why her oldest brother had to fight in the war. She forced herself to relax, rather than worrying about Edward or Junior, and focus on Carlisle. "The Land of Promise," was alright. The motion picture was about a couple who married for convince, but they end up needing each other emotionally. What Esme really enjoyed about the evening was doing something with just Carlisle. She'd even leaned her head on his shoulder throughout the film. He was right, she admitted to herself. It had been a good idea to spend time together without Edward.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

As nice as it was to spend an evening with her husband, Esme was quite happy to bring Edward home, too. She fed him the way he preferred, changed him again, and then gently put him in his crib. "Edward is all set," Esme commented to Carlisle as she returned to their bedroom. "You were right, my mother took good care of him. Thank you for taking me out tonight. The motion picture was nice."

Carlisle smiled at Esme. "I am glad you enjoyed the evening."

Esme wrapped her arms around him and gave him a kiss. "I really did."

Carlisle kissed her back, but then pulled away. "Listen, I want to talk about something. After seeing those "four – minute men," before the motion picture today, I understand why my father is so supportive about the war."

Esme squeezed his arm. "That's good to hear." Esme didn't like all the tension between Carlisle and her Father – in – law lately. She knew it was difficult for her husband. Besides, Esme was fond of Rev. Cullen, especially after helping Carlisle deal with Thomas's death.

"I think I'm going to do it, Esme," Carlisle continued. "I think I'm going to join the army, like Father is encouraging me to do."

Esme backed away Carlisle in shock. _That_ was something she hadn't expected. She was prepared to accept her oldest brother going to war, but her husband? That was a completely different matter. "Carlisle, I don't know if that's a good idea. You should think about it a little more."

Carlisle shook his head. " _I_ have been thinking about it, Esme! All night!"

Esme stared at him, more shocked than she had been before. Carlisle rarely shouted, and certainly not at her. "Carlisle, calm down. This isn't like you."

Carlisle sighed and pulled out his pajamas out of his drawer. "I'm sorry. You're right. But Esme…I need you to understand this decision."

Esme pulled out _her_ pajamas as well, a little disappointed that she had to put them on. Since they'd spent the evening together, she'd been hoping it would be one of those nights when nightclothes would be unnecessary. "We'll talk about it tomorrow, Carlisle," she told him as she finished putting on her nightgown.

They climbed into their bed, made of red oak (another wedding present from Esme's father), and pulled the quilt Esme's mother had made for them over their bodies. "I love you, Carlisle," she commented in the darkness. She was still a bit upset at him, but that was important to say. Esme never wanted to get to the point where she didn't speak or touch Carlisle again, like she had after Thomas died.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Esme climbed out of bed early the next morning to begin making the oatmeal and coffee for breakfast. After putting the milk on the stove, she quickly went back upstairs for Edward. As she finished feeding Edward, Carlisle appeared in the nursery, already dressed. "I will take care of him, Esme," he offered. "You can put you day clothes on now."

Esme nodded as Carlisle picked Edward up. She could hear Edward babbling as Carlisle swung their baby around. She loved to see her boys interacting like that. Esme hoped Carlisle would think a little more before joining the army. She pulled a corset and a nice, plain brown dress and quickly put them on. Esme still didn't like corsets very much, but as an adult woman, she knew they were necessary. After pinning her hair up, Esme went down the creaky stairs to finish making breakfast. Carlisle was already there, still playing with Edward.

Esme added the oatmeal to the milk, and soon breakfast was ready. Carlisle put Edward in his portable wicker basket. Then he added honey to his oatmeal and his coffee, while Esme added a little sugar. Despite the fact that they had been talking to each other since they'd woke up, the air between Carlisle and Esme was pretty thick. Esme briefly thought of cutting it with one of her kitchen knives, actually. But instead she decided to talk about the problem. "Carlisle, I'm sorry I wasn't very supportive about your decision to join the army last night," Esme began. "But you have to understand _I like_ having you here. I _need_ you here with me and with Edward. How am I to take care of Edward by myself?"

Carlisle smiled at her. "Of course I'll miss you both we'll I'm gone, but you _can_ take care of Edward, Esme. You're stronger than you think. Look at how you went to art school by yourself a few years ago. Look at how you recovered from Thomas's death."

Esme sighed and swallowed a bite of oatmeal, her heart aching as Carlisle mentioned Thomas. "I don't know if I'm as recovered from that as you seem to think, Carlisle. Our baby's death…it really affected me. And sometimes I still don't know how to live with it. And now you're talking about going to _war_? What if something happened to you, too? How could I lose my husband right after my baby boy?"

Carlisle put his spoon down and took her hand from across the table. "Esme, remember, I won't be _fighting_ in the war. I'll just be taking care of the soldiers who are fighting. I will be fine."

Esme nodded. "Yes, that is true. But with the bombs they've been using in the war, I hear sometimes more than just soldiers are hurt, Carlisle."

Carlisle withdrew her hand and drank some coffee. "That's true, Esme. But still, _most_ of the casualties are still soldiers. And someone has to take care of those soldiers. Soldiers who have families, too. More of the soldiers will survive if they have good doctors to take care of them."

Esme shook her head as she took another bite of oatmeal. Of course Carlisle wanted to help the soldiers survive. It was one of the reasons why he was a doctor. And his caring heart was one of the reasons Esme loved him. Still, that caring heart could also be hurt easily, Esme knew. It was another reason she was so concerned about Carlisle joining the army. "I understand what you're saying. But Carlisle, no amount of doctoring will save _all_ of the soldiers. I'm not just worried how I'll be able to live without you with me and Edward. I'm worried about _you_ , too. I know how much it bothers you when you lose a patient. I don't know…how will you handle it when you're _surrounded_ by death?"

Carlisle sighed and drank more coffee. Then he took Esme's hand again. "It will be hard, I admit. Harder than just about anything I've done, except maybe dealing with Thomas's death. Especially considering I won't be able to see you regularly. But we can write to each other, Esme. And I'll have God's support, too. I believe that now, since watching that message we saw last night. Besides, you know that babies' and children's deaths are the ones that bother me the most. There shouldn't be any of those in a war zone."

Esme nodded. She supposed that made sense. It appeared Carlisle had thought about this decision more than she'd given him credit for. Why should that surprise her? Carlisle was an intelligent man, who never did anything without thinking it through first. She gave his hand a squeeze and then withdrew it to take a bite of oatmeal.

"I know it bothers you that I'm leaving you and Edward, Esme," Carlisle continued. "And I understand that. I _wish_ I didn't have to leave either of you. But you have to understand I'm doing it _for_ my family, too. Father believes this war is important, as you know. I _need_ to do this to make him proud." Esme nodded, understanding how much Carlisle would still want to please his father, especially considering they'd only reconciled a couple of years ago. "And I'm a little worried Father what Father will do if I don't say "yes," soon, Esme," Carlisle continued. "What if he rejects me again? Then I'll be without a father again, and Edward will grow up without one of his grandfathers. Plus…what if the German's _do_ win because there aren't enough American soldiers. What would happen to our family, then? To _all_ families in the world?" Carlisle swallowed the last bit of coffee as he finished his speech.

Esme took another bite of oatmeal. "I suppose you're right, Carlisle. I'm sorry I thought you didn't think this through last night. You _do_ have to go."

Carlisle shook his head and stroked her arm across the table. "Thank you for understanding, Esme, but I understand why you were upset last night, too. It must have been quite a shock to you to hear I was joining the army."

Esme nodded. "Definitely."

"I need to go to the hospital today, though. I will be sure to tell Dr. Pinero I'll be leaving soon." As Carlisle got up to go, he realized he still had a whole bowl of oatmeal left. He smiled and quickly finished his breakfast.

Esme suddenly realized _she_ still had a whole cup of coffee left. She chuckled as she finished the coffee. She must have been eating to ease her stress well Carlisle chose to drink the coffee.

 **The history in this story is compiled from my own general knowledge, Wikipedia, and** _ **The Illusion of Victory: America in World War I**_ **by Thomas Fleming. (I'm** _ **really**_ **excited I get to cite a real book this time!)**

 **Please give me some reviews. I'd really like to know what you think of this story and/or the chapter.**

 **And for those of you who don't know, I will give responses to all reviews (registered** _ **and**_ **unregistered) at the end of the next chapter. However, if any of you are uncomfortable with public reviews, you can give me one in a PM.**


	2. Goodbye

2\. Goodbye

 **Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Twilight.**_

Esme spent the next few days trying to prepare herself for the fact her husband _and_ her oldest brother would be going to war soon. She paid close attention as Carlisle played with Edward, knowing that soon their son wouldn't coo in delight in his father's arms. She and Carlisle were also intimate every night that week, despite the fact taking care of Edward and the house made Esme very tired. Sleep was suddenly less important than loving Carlisle. Still, even though Esme knew she would miss her husband terribly and was worried about what the war would do to Carlisle's emotional state, in some ways, she worried about her brother more. After all, Junior would be fighting in the front lines. What would happen to her brother? Would he survive?

That Sunday evening, Mother hosted a huge "going away" dinner for both Junior and Carlisle. It was a big feast of roasted chicken, potatoes, and carrots. Esme also brought biscuits to go with the meal. Mother had a large, round, wooden table that fit everyone in their family. It wasn't as fancy as the red oak table that Carlisle and Esme had in their home, but it was worth it to have their whole family sit together. For several minutes, no one knew what to say for the occasion, though. It was so quiet Esme wouldn't be surprised if she heard a mouse walk across the floor.

Esme picked up a piece of chicken and began chewing. Some of the others did so as well, but no one talked. Esme watched her oldest brother eat his potatoes. She hadn't been that close to him in the last few years because he didn't live at home. Then after she married, Esme was too busy with her own life. But there was a time where she had _idolized_ her oldest brother.

Esme's mind drifted back to one of her earliest memories. She would have been about two or three. _Little Esme looked out the window to see her brother up in the sky! How was that possible? "Mama, Junior's flying! How can he do that? Can I fly, Mama?"_

 _Mother looked out the window and sighed. "Junior, you're supposed to be taking care of the horses. Not climbing trees again! Now get down here this instant!"_

" _Yes, Mother," Junior replied._

 _But Esme stared at her brother again as he came down. Climbing trees? Was that what Junior was doing? Could she do it, too?_

Then Esme remembered another moment, when she was a little bit older. About five, maybe? _Esme was supposed to stay near the barn and play with her doll, but what fun was that? She dropped her doll and ran toward her brothers yelling, "Teach me how to climb trees!_ _I want to touch the sky!"_

 _Junior and Alan shook their heads. "We'll get in trouble with Mother," Junior told her._

" _Go play with your doll, Esme," Alan added._

 _But Esme put her hands on her hips and shook her head. How could playing with her doll compare with the excitement of climbing trees with her brothers? "I don't_ want _to play with dolls! I want to climb trees!"_

 _Junior shook his head at Alan. "Mother's busy with other things today, I suppose. How much trouble could we get in if we let her do it just once?"_

 _Alan sighed. "Come on, Esme," he commented taking her hand. He led her to a large tree behind the barn. "This tree is the best, because it has low branches." And with that Esme's brothers taught her how to climb a tree. The tree that would become her favorite_ _in the following years._

Esme's mind finally returned to the present as she realized her chicken was almost gone. Once again, she wondered why Junior had to volunteer for the army, and the _front lines_ at that. "Make sure you come home," she told him firmly. "I need you to help teach Edward how to climb a tree."

Junior smiled at Esme as he finished a bite of potatoes. "Of course. I'll fine. Don't worry about me."

Esme opened her mouth to tell him that wasn't possible; of course she worried about him! But Junior continued, "I know how to take care of myself, you know. Plus, doctors like Carlisle to look after me."

He turned to look at his brother – in – law. "I'm glad to hear you'll be going, too. You're a good doctor. Soldiers _need_ doctors like you."

Esme smiled, pleased to see how much Junior respected her husband. And he was correct. If Junior had doctors like Carlisle to look after him, he'd be fine. Perhaps they'd even be assigned to the same area? She felt slightly better about Carlisle joining the army.

Carlisle smiled as well. "I appreciate that. I do my best." He drank some milk.

Esme's youngest brother, Timmy, who was now ten years old and growing all the time, suddenly exclaimed, "I wish I could join the army! I'd like to do something important for America, like you two are." He pointed to Junior and Carlisle. "If I were only a little bit older, I could!"

Esme's mother looked at her youngest son in horror. "I think it's better that you stay here with us, Timmy," she told him firmly.

Esme nodded. War was definitely _no place_ for her little brother. Timmy, who Esme had to encourage to eat his green beans for years and still left his marbles on the living room floor?

"There's a lot of ways to support the war, Timmy," Father added. "You can help Alan and I, and the rest of the family with the farm. Our farm supplies the soldiers with food, you know."

Timmy shoulders shagged. "Well…I suppose." He took a gulp of milk and gave himself a mustache. _No, Timmy's definitely not ready for war_ , Esme thought to herself.

"Personally, I think the farm is a lot more exciting than the war in Europe," Alan commented, looking right at Timmy. "There's always something new happening here. Sometimes the horses need tending or the barn needs fixing. Then there's weeding, keeping the bugs of the crops, the list is endless! And with a new fella on his way," Alan paused and looked at his wife's stomach, "Where else would I want to be?"

Amy was dressed in a long blue skirt and blouse _without a corset_ and her hair in a big braid. Shelooked at her husband gratefully, brushing a stray brown hair from her face as she did so.

Esme felt a bit of jealousy that Alan had chosen to _stay_ with his new family rather than joining the army. She understood Carlisle's decision now. She really did. But a part of her couldn't help thinking it would be nice if Carlisle chose to stay home. Mindlessly, she took a bite of carrots and noticed her husband's face. He looked…bothered by what Alan just said. Carlisle would _never_ say anything, Esme knew. He didn't have much of a temper and didn't like to cause problems with others. But Esme suddenly felt the need to defend her husband. "I'm glad you're happy here, Alan. But _some_ men aren't joining the army because they want to, they are joining it because they feel they must. To _support_ their family, among other things."

The look on Carlisle's face as Esme finished made everything worth it. All the pain that Esme was dealing with, knowing her husband would soon disappear. All the worry that she had over what the war would do to his mind. None of it mattered if Carlisle would look at her with the love and gratitude he was showing right now.

Alan looked back at Esme and then at Carlisle. "I understand that," he told them. "I just meant that _I_ don't feel the need to join the army. And I was hoping Timmy would understand that too," he added looking at their youngest brother. "Carlisle, if you feel it's necessary, good for you. I hope you'll help men like my brother."

Everyone nodded and returned to eating. Camille, who was sixteen herself now and had just started wearing long dresses and corsets, still wanted her family to appreciate the lighter moments apparently. She told several jokes and everyone laughed. Esme admitted to herself the laughter felt good.

As they began eating their dessert of chocolate pudding, Edward started fussing. Esme moved to take care of him, but Mother beat her to it. "Let me get him while he's here, Esme," she insisted.

So Esme returned to her seat and enjoyed her mother's chocolate pudding with the rest of her family. She could do this. Tomorrow, her brother would get on the train for training camp in Texas. Two days later, Carlisle would do the same. And Esme would go on.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOO

A few days later, Carlisle pulled into the busy train station. His medical bag, some clothing, toiletries, his Bible, a few other books, and some paper and pens were all packed in his suitcase. Carlisle stared at one of the trains for a few minutes as passengers climbed aboard. Some did so quietly, while others shouted to friends and relatives. Carlisle sighed, wishing they would be a bit quieter.

A couple of children cried as the black locomotive whistled and pulled away. Carlisle sighed, briefly wondering whether the pain Esme and Edward were sure to feel as _his_ train disappeared was worth it. Was Carlisle making the right decision?

 _Of course you are_ , Carlisle thought to himself, remembering all the reasons he had decided to join the army. Finally, he turned to look at his wife and son, who were sitting next to him on the buggy. "Thank you for supporting me on this, Esme," he told her. He knew it was difficult for her, but Esme had come to understand why he needed to go. Carlisle hadn't forgotten how she'd defended his decision during dinner at her parents' house.

Esme smiled sadly at him. "I love you, Carlisle. And so does Edward."

Carlisle looked back at her, trying to memorize how she looked today, holding on to Edward. She was dressed in a simple green dress with no jewelry, since Edward played with necklaces, bracelets, and pins too much. Her hair was pinned up, making Esme look like a proper lady. Most importantly, she was holding Edward up so their baby could see Carlisle and everything else around them. They looked so wonderful together. Carlisle hoped he was strong enough to leave them. He _had_ to be.

Finally Carlisle climbed out of the buggy and pulled his black suitcase out of the back. As he did so, heard a familiar voice call out, "Carlisle! My boy, I'm so proud of you."

As he turned to face his father, Carlisle revealed in finally hearing the words a part of him had longed to hear since he was fifteen years old. Father was _finally_ proud of Carlisle. For the first time today, he felt good about joining the army. "Hello, Father. Thank you for coming to see me leave today."

Rev. Cullen nodded. "Of course. So when do you receive your uniform? I was hoping to see you in blue with your lieutenant's bar today."

Carlisle sighed. He didn't really care about becoming a lieutenant in the army, but Father seemed to think it was one of the best things about Carlisle joining. "I am supposed to receive it when I arrive at the base."

Rev. Cullen nodded. "Well, next time you visit home, you _must_ wear your uniform."

Carlisle stayed quiet at that. He appreciated that he finally had his father's support in his life, but sometimes Father was still too controlling.

Rev. Cullen looked around the busy train station. Two new trains were loading right now. "When does your train leave Carlisle? You don't want to miss it."

Carlisle pulled out his silver pocket watch, which had been a gift from Esme, and checked the time, "I still have about five minutes, Father. Enough time to say goodbye."

Esme was standing nearby, still holding Edward as Carlisle talked to Father. He looked straight at them again. "Goodbye. Edward, you be good to your mother, all right?" He shook Edward's little hand gently.

Edward took that opportunity to grab Carlisle's finger and hold on. Then he smiled and replied "Gaaa." Carlisle sighed. How long would it be before Edward grabbed on to his finger again? Before he looked at him and babbled again? He wished he didn't have to leave while his son was so still a baby. How different would Edward be when he returned? How much would Carlisle miss? The first time Edward sat up on his own? The first time Edward crawled? Might Carlisle even miss his first word? Would Edward even recognize him when Carlisle finally returned?

Then Carlisle mentally shook himself. Training camp was only _six weeks_. There wasn't enough time for Edward to start crawling or talking while Carlisle was in Arizona. He would see his family again soon enough.

Esme smiled that sad smile she'd been giving him all morning. "I'll write to you, as soon as you give me your address. I'll tell you all about what Edward's doing."

Carlisle nodded and squeezed Esme's arm in gratitude. She was _so_ good at understanding his worries and trying to help him. "And I'll write to you as soon as I arrive."

Rev. Cullen nodded. "Esme and Edward will be fine, Carlisle. They have her family to help. And I'm available if necessary, too. Now climb on the train, son. And remember. God is with you. He's supporting you as you train in Arizona and he'll support you in Europe, too."

Carlisle nodded, although he wished Father hadn't mentioned Europe right now. Finally, he picked up his suitcase and prepared to climb on the train that would take him to the training base in Arizona. As he handed the conductor his ticket he briefly turned back to see Father, Esme and Edward still looking at him. And somehow Carlisle knew they would be all right. After all, they had God to help them, too. Knowing that, Carlisle allowed himself to sit down on the train and wave goodbye one last time. Then the train whistled and pulled out of the station.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Two days later, at the Army base in Wilcox, Arizona, Carlisle finally sat down to write a letter to Esme. He yawned as he pulled out a pen and paper out of his suitcase. He was quite tired tonight, considering the new routine he'd been thrown into today. Plus, the train wasn't exactly the easiest place to sleep. But Carlisle had promised Esme he would write to her as soon as he was able.

 _June 8, 1917_

 _Dear Esme,_

 _I arrived at the base this morning and wrote this letter as soon as I was able. I'll mail it out as soon as possible so you will know my address._

 _The train was nice enough. Many of the other men on the train were on their way to military training, we all talked about how we felt about it. One man in particular talked to me quite a bit. His name was Jim. He was a couple of years younger than me, but was also married and had a baby. He also wished he didn't have to leave his son when the boy was so young. I would like it if Jim was in Wilcox with me, but it turns out he was headed for another base. Texas, I believe. Perhaps he'll become friends with your brother?_

 _The food on the train was fine, although it wasn't anything close to your cooking, Esme. Dinner at the base was a little bit better. The cook here makes amazing rolls._

 _Tell Father I received my blue uniform and lieutenant's bar as soon as I arrived, just as I told him I would when you see him. General Marcus Benenati gave them to me when he first met with me. I don't see why that is so important. To me, being a good doctor is a lot more essential than what kind of uniform I wear or what title I have. But I'm sure Father would like to know._

 _The army had me report to the base hospital just after I talked to General Benenati. That pleased me because I feel comfortable in a hospital, as I'm sure you are aware. The base hospital is much bigger than the hospital in in Columbus, but it is still a hospital, complete with other doctors and nurses. It smells the same, too. Like fresh, clean soap and lots of lye._

 _One thing that is different at the base hospital how strict they are. Today I gave all the new soldiers physicals. Every appointment had to be fifteen minutes exactly. At home, when I see a patient, I have enough time to listen to them as they describe a problem before treating them. I speak to the patient about how they can help treat their condition. Here, I must give the patients physicals so fast there isn't really time to speak about concerns. I understand the army doesn't wish to waste time, but I would rather concentrate on the patient first. But I suppose I will need to become used to it. I will be here for a month and a half, after all._

 _The room I receive is small, but it is enough. It has a bed, a dresser, and a desk. I suppose one benefit of already having a lieutenant's rank is that I am not required to share. My room will stay silent, for the most part. You know how much I prefer quietness over noisy strangers. Although I wouldn't mind hearing your voice, or Edward's babble, of course._

 _I must become used to oil lambs instead of electricity again. It seems since the army is funded by the government, they receive technology last. This isn't a problem when I'm in my room by myself, but I wish I had more light in the hospital. At least it's summer, so there is usually plenty of sunlight._

 _I will write again soon. I hope to hear from you as well. Please tell me all about Edward, as you promised._

 _Love,_

 _Carlisle_

Carlisle rubbed his eyes and then folded the letter. He would mail it as soon as possible, but for now, he needed sleep.

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	3. Training Camp

Training Camp

 **Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Twilight.**_

In some ways, Esme's life was easier after Carlisle left. She no longer had to do his laundry or take his doctor's coat's to the dry cleaners. It was also not necessary to cook big dinners, because she was the only one eating. Still, even though the extra time made Esme's life easier, it certainly didn't make it better. Esme felt empty without being able to take care of Carlisle on a daily basis, like she had done since they were married. She considered painting again, remembering how much that had helped her handle Thomas's death.

There was a problem with that, though. Where would she put Edward? She had more time now than she'd had when Carlisle lived with them, but she also had less help with their baby. She could no longer depend on Carlisle to keep an eye on Edward while she cooked or dressed herself. Esme had taken to wearing Edward in her apron with the big pouch, but she couldn't paint with him attached to her like that.

Esme knew having Carlisle gone would be difficult. But she'd focused on how lonely it would feel to sleep alone. How disappointing it would be not to have someone to talk to at the beginning and end of the day. How much she would miss seeing Carlisle and Edward together. And those things _were_ difficult. But she underestimated how challenging it would be to live without Carlisle for practical reasons.

Still, Esme reminded herself she'd accepted the reasons why Carlisle felt the need to go. Even though she found it harder than she'd expected in some ways, he still needed Esme's support. She was determined to give it to him. Championing him would be easier if she could hear from her husband, though. Carlisle had promised to send her a letter as soon as possible. But it had been almost a week and there was still nothing. Esme could only hope Carlisle was doing well in Arizona.

Esme finished washing Edward's diapers and began hanging them up when the baby began to tug at her shirt, looking for her breasts.

"Is it time for another meal, Edward?" she asked him sweetly.

"Ahh – voo" Edward replied, looking back at Esme with a big smile. Then he tugged at her shirt again.

Esme smiled and patted Edward's fussy head. Some red hair was beginning to grow. "Well, let me finish with these, and then I'll see about that." Esme did her best to finish hanging up the diapers quickly. The kitchen was soon full of tiny wet cloths hanging all over the place. After that, Esme sat down in her rocker, ready to give Edward some milk. It was nice that some things were still unaffected since Carlisle left. Edward still wanted her breasts.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

The next day, Esme decided to use some of her free time to go to the local market. Even though she wasn't out of food yet, there were things she could buy. She may not cook as often as she used to, but she'd still like to buy a few meats for herself. There was also oatmeal, sugar, and flour of course. Rice. Today, Esme also planned to pick up a loaf of bread. It was much too hot to run the oven as long as it was necessary for bread to cook.

As she picked up a bit of pork from the butcher, she noticed her friend Cindy was also picking up some meat. Cindy had been her best friend since they both went to girls' school on scholarship. Cindy had even been her maid of honor when she married Carlisle. And last year, when Cindy married her beau, Kevin, Esme served as her matron of honor. "Hello, Cindy," she commented as her friend turned around.

"Hi, Esme," Cindy replied evenly as she put the meat in her basket. "Is that Edward?" she asked, pointing at the baby in Esme's apron pocket. "He's getting so big!" She reached over to shake Edward's tiny hand, some strands from her light brown hair falling in front of her. Edward grabbed Cindy's finger tightly.

Esme smiled and patted Edward's head. "Yes, he is. And he's as handsome as his father." She sighed as she thought of Carlisle again. "I just wish he was still here. He's volunteered for the army, you know. He's already at the training camp in Arizona."

Cindy sighed and stared at her basket. "Kevin's volunteered for the army, too. I understand a lot of men have in the last couple of weeks. I still can't believe Kevin will be fighting in the _front lines_ , though. You're lucky your husband's a doctor, Esme. You don't have anything to worry about."

Esme bristled at that comment. She didn't have _anything_ to worry about? "That isn't really true, Cindy. I worry about Carlisle's mental state a great deal. You don't know what a gentle man he really is. Going to war, being surrounded by death…I'm afraid of what that will do to him."

Cindy shook her head. "That isn't the same thing, and you know it. I'm worried my husband might come home in a body bag and you're worried your husband might get _upset?_ "

Esme sighed. Cindy still wasn't understanding her. "That's not what I meant. I'm sure Carlisle's going come home being more than just 'upset' about the war. Maybe he'll have nightmares. Maybe his personality will change. I don't know, but it _does_ worry me. And I think I have the right to be worried."

Esme knew she was should champion her husband, but sometimes her worries became too much.

"It's still not the same thing as the front lines. No matter how he comes home, your doctor will come back. You just don't know, Esme."

Esme slapped her hand on her side sharply. Edward, who had let go of Cindy's finger at some point, began fussing. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She certainly didn't want to upset her baby. Still, Esme tried to explain to Cindy, "That's not necessarily true. I _want_ to believe Carlisle will return, but with the bombs they've been using in this war, I've heard sometimes doctors and nurses can be hurt, too. And just so you're aware, my oldest brother will be fighting on the front lines, too. And you know what? I don't want to speak to you anymore." Esme walked away, intent on finishing her shopping away from her former friend.

"It's still not the same thing," Cindy called after her but Esme ignored her.

OOOOOOOOOOO

After Esme paid for the groceries and arranged for delivery, she put Edward in his white stroller and started to walk home. Usually Esme enjoyed the walk, considering the market was only fifteen minutes from her home. She liked to experience the city, with all of its buildings and noises. And Edward was just getting old enough to enjoy it as well. But today, Esme was preoccupied by her quarrel with Cindy. She couldn't believe she and Cindy had such a big argument. Her friend had supported her relationship with Carlisle from the beginning, and Esme had supported Cindy's relationship with Kevin in turn. This was a time where war wives should be turning to each other for support, not turning against each other! How could Cindy act like that?

Suddenly, Edward interrupted her thoughts, giggling. Esme looked to see as a couple of pigeons fly by the stroller. Esme smiled, glad to see him happy.

"Do you like the birdies, Edward?" she asked him brightly.

Edward giggled again.

Esme decided to try to focus on what they could see as they walked home, rather than her fight with Cindy.

OOOOOOOOOOO

When she returned to the house, Esme was still trying to maintain a better mood for Edward's sake. But things improved dramatically as soon as she checked the mail. Finally a letter from Carlisle! "Do you want to see what Daddy has to say, Edward?" she asked him holding up the letter.

"Ahhh," Edward agreed.

So they sat down in the rocker and Esme began reading the letter out loud.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOOO

Carlisle had been in Wilcox, Arizona for two weeks now. He and the other men woke up at sunrise to shower, shave, and perform other activities of personal hygiene. It was slightly earlier than he was used to stirring, but Carlisle had always been a morning person and he adjusted to the wake up calls quickly. Some of the other young men, especially those who had been attending college or used to working late, didn't do so well. He heard a bit of complaining at the mess hall and saw some dark circles when the men came for their weekly physical.

The base commander insisted that the men adjust and allowed no exceptions to waking up on time, however. Carlisle recommended those with dark circles under their eyes to retire to bed an hour earlier instead. Then these men would be ready for the next day, particularly all the physical training they practiced early. The men ran, marched, performed push – ups, and lifted weights. Through it all, they practiced their responses to orders. Carlisle was surprised to learn he was expected to participate in the physical training himself, even though he was a doctor. "All Army trainees need physical training, Lt." he was told. "No exceptions, even if you are already ranked as a Lieutenant." Carlisle did his best, but he'd always excelled at intellectual pursuits rather than physical ones. He was often told he needed to practice his physical training a little more.

After breakfast, Carlisle was allowed to return to the place he felt most at home: the base hospital. When he wasn't seeing patients, he was expected to study injuries that were common on the battlefield. He was given several books and pamphlets on treating gunshot wounds; including wounds from machine guns and regular guns, bomb wounds, and gas attacks. He believed this was the best part of his training. One of the main reasons Carlisle had joined the army was to help soldiers recover from injuries. Besides, Carlisle loved to study and learn new things, especially about medicine.

While he studied, other young men practiced using both types of guns, hiding in make shift trenches, wearing masks designed to keep them from breathing deadly gases, and above all, working together as a team to defeat enemies.

One day a young cadet had been practicing fighting in the trenches, fainted and was quickly brought into the hospital, despite his protests when he came to. The cadet appeared to be about eighteen and had dark hair that was cut army – short. His uniform was also soaking wet. Carlisle looked up from his studies as they came in. He wondered if they were performing water exercises today. Arizona was hot, but it wasn't usually humid.

"I'm fine," he grumbled as one of the colonels helped him in. "I didn't actually _faint_ , you know. I just closed my eyes for a second. I need to get back out there to help my teammates."

"No," the colonel said firmly. He appeared a little older than Carlisle, perhaps in his mid – thirties? The colonel was also tall and quite muscular. "Observers say you were on the ground for two or three minutes. You are sweating too much. We need to make sure you are still fit for combat, soldier."

"No, sir," the cadet protested. "I'm fit. I promise, I am."

"Cadet Williams!" the colonel shouted. "You will submit to an examination, whether you like it or not."

The cadet sighed and attempted to salute to the colonel but couldn't quite coordinate right, no matter how he tried. Carlisle knew this man definitely needed to be examined. Was this one of the young men Carlisle had examined when they arrived? Was it possible he had missed something when he gave the young man a physical as he arrived?

"Colonel Thompson," the first colonel said, turning to Carlisle's immediate boss at the base hospital, and the base's chief surgeon. "See that Cadet Williams is has a physical exam as soon as possible."

"Of course," Colonel Thompson replied, nodding in obvious agreement as the other colonel left

"Lt. Cullen," Colonel Thompson commented, turning his attention to Carlisle after Cadet Williams finally sat down on one of the closest beds. Colonel Thompson was probably in his mid – thirties as well, although he didn't appear to be as fit as the previous colonel.

"Yes, sir," Carlisle replied, saluting the superior officer properly.

"You will give the cadet another fifteen – minute physical to determine the cause of fainting and reevaluate whether he is fit for duty."

"Yes, sir," Carlisle replied, saluting again. He hoped the young man was fine, but it would be difficult to determine for sure if only had fifteen minutes. Carlisle still didn't particularly care for these timed physicals. Several nurses volunteered to assist, so Carlisle supposed that would help a little.

He also noticed many of the other medical cadets were watching with interest. Some even tried to come closer for a better look. It appeared they intended to watch him perform the exam, which was possible considering the hospital was all one big room. Carlisle supposed a live physical would be more interesting than reading text books to most of them. He just hoped they weren't bothering his patient.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Fortunately, Carlisle quickly realized the only thing that was wrong with the cadet was heat exhaustion. "You will recover completely," he assured the young man who was still sitting on the hospital bed.

Cadet Williams sighed with relief, throwing his head back as he did so. "Thanks Dr. Cullen. I was scared there. I thought they might send me home!"

"You must understand that this is still serious," Carlisle still warned the cadet. He accepted a tall glass of water from a nurse. "I need you to drink this water. Slowly," he instructed the cadet as he handed him the water. "Your fainting spell indicates you are bordering on _heat stroke_ , which can kill you if you're not careful."

Cadet Williams looked at Carlisle strangely. "Are you sure? I mean…I've never heard of a man dying from _fainting_. Actually I've never heard of a man fainting at all. I mean, isn't that a woman thing?"

Several of the medical cadets chuckled from the background. Carlisle glanced at them and shook his head firmly. If they wished to watch, they could not embarrass the patient more than he already was.

Then he looked at the boy sternly. "Yes. I am certain. And young man, I know we are used to women fainting more than men, but anyone can faint from heat stroke. You need to drink water more regularly, especially when you are training outdoors."

Cadet Williams looked at the glass for several minutes. "I think the Lt. has mentioned that before. But it didn't really seem important, especially when I was so focused on helping Bill and Steve defeat the other team."

In the corner of his eye, Carlisle noticed Colonel Thompson coming up behind Cadet Williams and looked at his watch. The timed physicals, of course. Carlisle forced himself to say what he needed to quickly. "Now you know better, Cadet. Drinking proper fluid should be part of your training just anything else is. Especially in this weather." Carlisle sighed. Most of his work was indoors and wasn't physical as the other men, but even _he_ could feel the heat. It had to be ninety – five degrees today!

The cadet sipped the water. "I guess, doc. I'm not used to this heat. I'm from Washington State, you know."

Just as Carlisle finished explaining, Colonel Thompson commented, "Well done, Lt. but the physical exam is over. Return to your studies. The cadet can drink by himself."

"Yes, sir," Carlisle replied, saluting. As happy as he was to return to his books, sometimes he really disliked how impersonal the army could be. What harm could it be to continue to talk with the boy and make sure he wasn't suffering a relapse? His desk was close to the cadet's bed, but not close enough for Carlisle to focus on the boy. Still, with hundreds of beds in this room, perhaps he shouldn't complain. At least the two of them weren't on opposite sides of the hospital.

OOOOOOOOOOO

At dinner, several of the other medics crowded around Carlisle, asking him all kinds of questions about the patient and the physical that Carlisle had performed. He did his best to answer them, although Carlisle tried to make it clear he didn't know everything. Carlisle was beginning to realize that most of the other medics had much less experience with medicine than he did. It made sense, he supposed, considering most of the cadets were about ten years younger than he was.

Still Carlisle was relieved when he was able to retire to his room for peace and quiet. Especially considering he finally received a letter from Esme. He settled down to read.

 _June 18, 1917_

 _Dear Carlisle,_

 _I was so relieved to hear from you and know you arrived in Wilcox safely. I haven't heard from my brother yet, but I'm sure he's fine. I hope Junior's doing as well as you have been._

 _Your father isn't the only one who's excited to see you in uniform, Carlisle. I know it doesn't mean that much to you, but I personally cannot wait to see how handsome you look in your army uniform. I hope you will show me when you come home to visit._

 _I'm sure you are comfortable in the hospital, despite its differences and I hope you adapt soon._

 _Edward is done well. He's still making messes, drinking milk, babbling, and playing around on the floor whenever he can. He's also growing more and more red hair every day. I struggled for a couple of days, trying to figure out how I could take care of the house and Edward without you to help with our baby. Then I realized if I wear the apron with the big pocket, I can just put Edward in the pocket and carry him around that way. He doesn't seem to mind at all._

 _Earlier today, I had a bit of a disagreement with my friend, Cindy. I thought with both of our husbands joining the army, we could support each other. But it seems Cindy doesn't want to do that. At least I have my family, I suppose. And you. Thank you so much for your letter, Carlisle. It doesn't make up for having you with me, but I still love hearing from you. Knowing what's going on in your life right now makes me feel closer to you. Please don't hold back._

 _I love you Carlisle. Please write back as soon as you can._

 _Always,_

 _Esme_

 **I found a** _ **lot**_ **of good information on WWI medicine, especially base hospital medicine for this chapter! It's from the following book,** _ **Seeking the Cure: A History of Medicine in America**_ **by Ira Rutkow. (I know a couple of people who should find that interesting.)**

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 **Carsme Moonbane: Here's your new chapter. Glad you were able to feel the sadness of chapter #2.**

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	4. Fourth of July

**Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Twilight.**_

 **I hope you guys don't mind I'm posting this a couple of days after the holiday. Enjoy.**

Fourth of July

Esme opened Carlisle's latest letter again as Edward fussed in his wooden crib. She had been trying to get him to sleep for an hour, but every time Esme put him down, he would wake up and express his dissatisfaction. She had decided to try reading him Carlisle's letter from his crib.

June 24, 1917

" _Dear Esme,_

 _If you would like to see me in my uniform, than I will certainly wear it for you as well as Father the next time I visit. Personally, I would like to see how you look with Edward inside your big apron! I am sure you both look adorable. I also look forward to seeing how much hair he has the next time I see him. And, of course, I'm always interested in seeing your beautiful face, Esme. You and Edward visit me in my dreams every night, but it isn't the same as viewing you in person._

 _I'm sorry you had a disagreement with Cindy. I know she is one of your close friends. I'm sure you will reconcile eventually, though. I believe the stress of the situation is what caused you both to react that way._

 _I am becoming more used to the big base hospital with it's open floor plan and lots of medical personal the longer I am here. It is actually nice to have so many nurses, doctors, and medics to help with patients, especially considering we are still only allowed limited time to examine them._

 _One thing that I have struggled to become used to is that most of the other medics are about ten years younger than I am and don't have as much medical training as I have. In Columbus, I was the youngest doctor in the hospital. Here, the other medics look to me for guidance on how to do procedures and how to make diagnoses. I suppose that's why they've made me a lieutenant. Still, I am not exactly comfortable with so many people watching me. Plus, it worries me that I will say or do something wrong to these young medics. On the other hand, I admit it is gratifying to know I have helped them in some way. I hope I can do as well as my mentors once did for me._

 _I hope to be a role model for the younger medics and soldiers in other ways, too. This one area I almost positive that I can do better than Dr. Pinero. A few days ago, they showed a film to all of the new army trainees about the dangers of spending too much time with…loose women, if you understand me. They can carry diseases, the film explained. I can encourage the younger men to stay away from these women, for I loathe the practice. (Certainly not just because of the diseases, of course.) But if they must, at least insist they do something to protect themselves. Perhaps I shouldn't discuss these things with you, Esme, and I am sorry if I am bothering you, but you did advise me not to hold back in your last letter. Besides, I would like to make it clear to you how…abhorrent I find to use these women's services._

 _The army is also discouraging drinking, thank goodness. I know you disapprove of prohibition, Esme, but you have to understand how serious it is for_ soldiers _, of all people, drinking. I still shutter when I think of my behavior when I drank too much alcohol a few years ago. I cannot imagine what would happen if soldiers started doing that. To combat this problem, the army has forbidden alcohol from being bought by army personal. I hope the younger soldiers remember this and listen to my reminder when they have free time this weekend._

 _I know the Fourth of July is approaching, and I'm sorry I will not be home for that. I wish I could see Edward's face the first time he sees the parade. I am sure he will enjoy it._

 _As Army trainees, we are supposed to march in the parade in Wilcox, in our uniforms. I suppose I understand why that is, although I'm still not comfortable with so many people looking at me. I will wear the uniform for you, Esme. But for everyone else…I am not sure. I would rather focus on being a good doctor._

 _According to the general, I_ may _be able to come home in two weeks. If I do, it will only be for one night before I am headed for Europe. I will tell you more details as soon as possible._

 _Whether I see you or not, Esme, I love you. And Edward. Always,_

 _Carlisle._ "

Just as Esme had suspected, Edward was asleep by the time she'd finished reading Carlisle's letter. So Esme carefully tip – toed out of the room, relieved that Edward's bedroom was carpeted. She yawned. It was almost time for her to sleep, too.

As Esme let her hair down, put on her pajamas, and climbed into bed, she thought about Carlisle's letter again. She hoped he would be able to come home soon, even if it would only be for one night. Esme was desperate to see her husband again. Sleeping on their bed without him felt wrong. It was incredibly lonely. Esme picked up his letter from the nightstand and ran her hand over the words, trying to be as close to him as she could.

Esme was pleased Carlisle had told her about his distaste for "loose women," and how he hoped to encourage the other men to be more careful with them. Many people would say it wasn't appropriate topic for a man to discuss with his wife, but Carlisle had apparently decided to take her seriously when she'd told him not to hold back. It was also reassuring to know Carlisle still had no interest in finding someone to take her place in his bed. As lonely as the empty bed could be, they both knew finding someone else wasn't an option.

She sighed and placed the letter back on the nightstand and then put her head on the pillow, trying not to think of how silent this room was without Carlisle. Another reason the bed felt lonely. He was such a quiet man by nature, but he still made soft sounds as he fell asleep like everyone did. Esme missed those sounds. Still, she was tired, so fortunately, Esme was able to fall asleep soon.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The next day, Esme finally received a letter from Junior. As much as Carlisle's letters meant the most to her, she was incredibly happy to have a letter from her oldest brother. Between changing and feeding Edward, cleaning, and washing, Esme eventually sat in her rocker in the front room to read it.

June 26. 1917

 _Dear Esme,_

 _Sorry I haven't written to you yet, sis. I've been busy. Military training here in Texas is intense. They have several different kinds of guns we have to practice using and big tanks we have to practice driving. They are also showing us a war strategy called "trench warfare." We are supposed to dig man – sized ditches to hide in and shoot the enemy from. To be honest, the trenches are kind of fun. They remind me of all the digging in the dirt Alan and I did when we were younger. And hiding from the enemy reminds me of playing cowboys and Indians as a child._

 _Speaking of cowboys I actually met a couple of real ones out here. They talked about lassos, and branding cattle, and herding them in the fall, and everything! They're pretty nice fellas, too. Supposedly, there are actually_ female cowboys _around here, too. Cowgirls, I think they call them. I'm not sure I believe that, but I'd be interested to find out._

 _And you should see the size of the beef out here. Last night I had a ham – (Sorry. I mean Saulsberry Steak. The men here don't like to call it "hamburger" because it's a German word.) So last night I had a Saulsberry Steak that was twice as big as what I would find in Ohio. They tell me "everything's bigger in Texas."_

 _I wonder if that's true for_ everything, _or just for food. I'd love to find out someday._

 _Hope you are doing well. Are you going to go to the Fourth of July celebration with Mother and Father? I think it will be fun if you do._

 _Tell Edward I'll be back to teach him how to climb a tree, definitely._

 _Always your brother,_

 _Junior_

Esme sighed. She couldn't help but notice how different it was than Carlisle's messages. Carlisle was learning how to be an army doctor and mentoring the other medics. Junior was learning to fight. As much as he tried to gloss over it, Esme was very aware that was what Junior's lessons were about. Esme knew that when they'd both left, but somehow this letter made it more clear the danger her brother was in. _He'll be all right. He has to be,_ she told herself. After all, Edward had to learn how to climb a tree, right?

She shook and looked at the letter again, trying to decide where she should keep it. Esme didn't want to leave it out in the open, but it didn't belong upstairs on the nightstand with Carlisle's letters, either. After several minutes, she put the letter inside her old copy of _Grimm's Fairytales,_ which was located on the brown bookshelf in the corner of the room. Perhaps she would remember to write back to her brother when she decided to read her favorite childhood book again.

Then Esme turned her attention to Edward, who was lying on the floor in the front room. He rolled over and grinned at her. "Ah – goo!" he exclaimed, and then put one of his blocks in his mouth.

Esme smiled at her son. He made her day brighter. "You'd like to climb a tree someday, wouldn't you Edward? Of course you would." She leaned over and tickled his tummy and Edward giggled.

OOOOOOOOOO

Two days later, the Fourth of July arrived. Mother, Father, Camille, Linda, and Timmy had all came into the city to watch the parade with Esme and Edward. They were all dressed in their Sunday best, considering how rare most of them came into the city. Yet, despite how nice everyone looked, there were people missing. Amy was unable to come because she was seven months pregnant now, so Alan had stayed home as well. Esme also couldn't help but notice how incomplete their group seemed without Carlisle, though. He had been considered a member of their family since before she and Carlisle had been married. And with this being Edward's first Fourth of July celebration…

Esme reminded herself how important it was that Carlisle stay in Arizona at the moment and tried to focus on other things.

"Father, may I have some lemonade?" Linda asked as she noticed a stand being set up across the street.

"Me, too!" Timmy agreed.

Father sighed as he adjusted his brown top hat and checked the pockets of his best trousers for coins. "I suppose everyone else would like some as well?"

"That would be nice, Father," Camille agreed, obviously trying to sound like a proper young lady. Sometimes Esme had trouble remembering her younger sister who had always liked to joke was sixteen now. Camille was even wearing an ankle – length blue dress and a corset.

"I think that would be refreshing, George," Mother agreed, nodding her head.

Esme nodded as well. It was rather warm, and lemonade would taste especially good today.

Father selected Camille and Timmy to assist him with the drinks. Mother turned to Esme as they disappeared into the crowd. "I actually heard from Junior last week," she commented. "He seems to be doing well, I suppose. Certainly enjoying his training and his time in Texas."

Esme nodded as Edward wiggled a little in her arms. So far he hadn't made a mess on his nice blue pants and vest. "Junior sent me a letter, too. It's nice that he seems happy, I suppose. I just wish…" her voice trailed off, as Esme was unable to say what she was thinking.

Mother nodded, knowing what Esme was unable to say. Probably because she felt the same way. They both wished Junior wasn't going to fight in the front lines. "Have you heard from Carlisle?" Mother asked instead.

Esme nodded as Edward wiggled again.

"Let me take him, Esme," Mother offered, holding out her arms. "I have been looking forward to holding my grandson, after all."

Esme passed her son to Mother. Then she replied, "Yes, a few times. Carlisle seems to be becoming more used to the army hospital as time goes on."

"That's nice," Mother agreed. "It's nice that he and your brother are doing well, I suppose."

"Yes," Esme agreed, although she knew from Carlisle's letters that things weren't that easy for him. He missed her and Edward very much. Besides that, Carlisle struggled with the "timed – physicals" as he called them, and was uncomfortable with so many young medics looking to him for guidance. Actually, Esme wondered if Junior was really doing as well as he claimed or if Carlisle just told her more of his problems than her brother did.

The rest of their family arrived back with the lemonade just then.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Esme and her family enjoyed the parade. Esme enjoyed seeing the National Women's Suffrage Association and the American Red Cross, as they were worthy organizations and she knew some of the participants. Father liked seeing some of the new John Deere trackers that were available. Timmy was excited to see the _very loud_ fire trucks. Edward smiled and babbled at all the people, and many other parade – watchers admired his outfit. (Which fortunately was still clean at the moment.) As the parade ended, everyone enjoyed as someone played, "The Star – Spangled Banner" on an old fife.

"We sing this song in school, Mother," Linda commented, as she hummed along.

Timmy began singing as well, although a little off – key.

Esme listened closely as well, thinking Carlisle probably heard this song frequently at the army base. The song helped her remember what her husband was doing was so important.

After the song ended, Esme noticed Cindy standing in the distance. A part of Esme wanted to approach her former friend. After all, they had been close companions for a long time, and Esme kind of missed talking to Cindy. Perhaps Carlisle had been correct in his letter, and Cindy had only said those things because she was stressed. Maybe she regretted them? But as Esme looked at Cindy's smiling face as she talked to her family, she decided against it. Cindy was busy with her family, just as Esme was busy with hers. _Besides, what if Cindy didn't regret what she said?_ Esme thought to herself, wishing she hadn't.

Esme pulled Edward back into her arms again, wanting to focus on someone other than Cindy. "Are you having fun on your first Fourth of July?" she asked him.

"Ahh – va!" Edward replied, giving his mother a toothless grin.

"I think Edward really liked the music, too, Esme," Mother commented. "Didn't you, Edward?" she asked the baby, tickling his chin.

Edward giggled. Then suddenly, Esme's luck ran out, as her son spit up all over his nice outfit.

"I suppose I should take him home and change him," Esme sighed, looking at the mess Edward made. She put Edward in his stroller, briefly making a face because of the sour – milk smell all over him. She hoped she could manage without getting milk all over herself as well.

Mother nodded. "Of course. I'll come with you." They had been walking for a couple of minutes when Mother commented, "Hearing the national anthem reminded of something I wanted ask you, Esme. How you're coping? With Carlisle gone, I mean." Esme could tell by the tone in her mother's voice how serious she was.

Esme smiled, glad that her mother had thought to ask that. It was nice that _someone_ realized how complicated her feelings were about Carlisle preparing for war. "I think I am all right. Edward keeps me busy. Especially with all the messes he causes." Esme pointed to the one had just created.

Mother chuckled. "I am happy to hear that. Have you been painting lately?"

Esme shook her head. "I would like to, but I can't find a good place to put Edward while I do it."

"Have you considered doing it while he's sleeping? I know how much painting helped you before so, I think it's really something you should try, Esme."

Esme nodded. Painting certainly _had_ made a huge difference for her when Thomas died. Perhaps she should make it more of a priority, especially when Carlisle eventually reached Europe. "Thank you, Mother. I'll do my best." Soon they arrived at Esme's home, and she brought Edward inside to change him.

Yes, painting would probably help her, Esme thought, as she and her mother changed Edward. But something that would help even more would be seeing Carlisle again. She really hoped her husband would be able to come home next week, even if it was only for one night.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOOOO

Carlisle encouraged all the men who would be marching in the parade to drink a lot of water. Their formal uniforms and the Arizona heat were an intense combination, and he did not wish to have more patients suffering from heat stroke. To his disappointment, not all the men carried water with them. Carlisle prayed to God that everyone would be fine anyway.

As they all began marching, Carlisle noticed how many men were participating. There were the men from the army base he worked at, of course. But there were also retired soldiers, probably from the Spanish American War. There were even some old men who wore grey uniforms who had apparently fought for the Confederacy. Carlisle felt slightly uncomfortable marching with these men, as he'd always been taught that the Union was the victor for a reason. These men didn't even wear the blue uniforms the rest of the army did.

Still, the spectators did not seem to mind that some of the soldiers had been Confederates. They all cheered, hollered, and waved flags for every single one of soldiers. A few of the young women even whistled as well. Other spectators called out, "Good luck Johnny," or "Looking fine, Tim!" Carlisle was honestly quite uncomfortable with all the attention. He understood why the soldiers should march in the Independence Day parade, especially as many were on their way to war in Europe. It was nice that most of the country supported the war and the soldiers fighting it now. But Carlisle still didn't care for people looking at him all the time, especially the young ladies. Esme was enough for him; Carlisle didn't need women whistling as he passed.

Honestly Carlisle wished he was home instead of listening to the sound of feet hitting road as they marched and women shouting. He wanted to see how Edward reacted to his first parade. He wanted to see Esme enjoying herself with the rest of her family. And this blue uniform was so uncomfortable in the hot weather, Carlisle may have been baking in an oven.

Suddenly, as the soldiers continued to march, a boy a couple years older than Edward called out "Grandpa!" Although children were supposed to be seen and not heard, "Grandpa" didn't seem to mind. One of the old men in the grey Confederate uniforms smiled at the boy and waved and then kept on marching. The ex – Confederate must really love his grandson. Carlisle supposed he had never really thought of it, but of course the Confederate soldiers would have families. All of the soldiers did, of course. And most of the men probably wished they could be home with their families. But instead they were here, because the country needed help. Carlisle began to feel closer to all the soldiers, even the former Confederates. They were all military men, marching together. By the end of the parade, he accepted the slaps on the back that all of the men gave, including those that had retired and those that were still working and training at the base. Carlisle had truly become one of them.

But no matter how close he was becoming to the other soldiers, he still wished he could see his family again. Carlisle sincerely hoped the general would allow him a short visit to see Esme on his way to Europe next week.

 **I'm afraid it will be a couple of months before I update this again. I have some other writing projects to work on, and RL is busy for me at this time of year because both my girls are on school vacation. But don't worry, I won't abandon it.**

 **In the meantime,** _ **please**_ **give me some reviews and or/PMs if you prefer, for this chapter. I know some of you may find it hard to believe, but they really do help me write.**

 **Here's a response from the last chapter.**

 **Bloomandgrow: Well, it's too bad Esme didn't get much support from Cindy, but as you can see, she did receive some nice support and advice from her mother. (I know you'd didn't read YLOFA, but it's ironic, because in that story Esme's mother wasn't very supportive of Carlisle, while Cindy was. In this story it's reversed.) And yes, Edward is adorable. Hope you enjoyed the history in this chapter. I had a lot of fun researching and writing it.**


	5. Reunited, and it Feels so Good

Reunited, and it Feels so Good

 **Disclaimers: I don't own** _ **Twilight**_ **, nor do I own the title of this chapter. Officially, it's from a song I don't know the name of, but I got it from a chapter title from one of the first fanfictions I ever read, about fifteen years ago (that story isn't on ).**

After the Fourth of July, Esme decided to start painting again while Edward was asleep. Her baby still woke up at least once a night, and she still had plenty of chores to complete, so Esme wasn't able to paint for more than a half hour at a time. Still, her mother was correct. Art helped Esme handle her emotions about Carlisle being away. About Junior, too.

Esme had started a picture of an American flag. The image helped remind Esme that Carlisle and her brother were gone for a good reason. At the same time, the colors she was using allowed Esme to express some of her other emotions. She often considered this blue a gloomy shade. It was, after all, the color of tears. The red, Esme sometimes thought of as an angry shade, perhaps because people's faces were supposed to turn red when they became angry.

Sometimes Esme became quite angry when she thought of Carlisle and Junior. Angry that they decided to go to war. Angry that there _was_ a war that needed to be fought in the first place. Angry at the Germans for forcing the United States to enter the war. That anger increased since Esme had read that the German U – boats had sunk the United States _Liberty_ a couple of weeks ago. The _Liberty_ was full of the first volunteers of American soldiers. Many of them had been drowned even before they'd seen a battle.

That incident worried as well as angered Esme. What if the same thing happened to Carlisle's ship? Her husband was going to war as a doctor, not a fighter, but the German U – boats didn't care about that. They just sunk the whole ship. What if…Esme sighed as her brush moved the blue paint across the paper.

OOOOOOOOOO

One day, Esme received a telegram that Carlisle would be returning home in two days! Of course, it would only be for one night, but she intended to enjoy her time with her husband while she could. She bought ingredients to make roast lamb and made sure to clean the house extra well. After careful deliberation, she decided to invite Carlisle's father to dinner as well. As much as Esme would like time alone with her husband, Rev. Cullen should see Carlisle before he went to Europe.

Reverend Anthony Cullen arrived at her home, dressed in his best clothes and looking just as proud as the day he'd baptized Edward. But as soon as he opened his mouth, Esme remembered why he could be so difficult. He immediately announced they should dine at a restaurant instead of at home. "Carlisle deserves the best dinner that can be bought tonight," Rev. Cullen told her.

Esme knew that her father – in – law was simply trying to control everything, as usual. But his comment felt like a slap across the face. "I spent a great deal of money on this roast lamb already. Not to mention all the time I've already spent preparing it. Carlisle's always believed my cooking is amazing. I think we will be fine staying here," she told Rev. Cullen firmly.

Rev. Cullen stayed quiet for several minutes before he commented, "Carlisle is an officer in the army now. I think it would be fitting to show everyone how proud we are of him."

Esme shook her head. _You mean you want to show him off_ , she thought with annoyance. Esme was happy that Carlisle was a lieutenant, and she couldn't wait to see how handsome he looked in his uniform. But she also knew that flaunting his uniform and rank wouldn't be something Carlisle would be interested in. If anything, it would make him a little uncomfortable.

"I don't believe that would be a good idea for Carlisle. Besides, a restaurant would be difficult for Edward," Esme added as she caressed her son's head from where he rested in her apron.

As she did so, Edward yawned and stretched as he woke up. "Aaahh – va!" he babbled, looking right at his grandfather.

"I _need_ to finish preparing dinner," Esme told Rev. Cullen firmly, pointing to the kitchen. Perhaps you would like to pick Carlisle up at the train station? You could bring Edward with you?" Esme added, handing her father – in – law her baby.

Rev. Cullen picked up the baby without saying a word and disappeared out the door. Apparently he was still angry she told him "no" about the restaurant. She hoped he had accepted it by the time they all sat down to dinner. In the meantime, Esme pulled out some cans of carrots she'd received from her mother's garden to go with the lamb. For a second she, wondered why she had bothered to invite Rev. Cullen. Esme didn't need this stress tonight.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Esme changed into one of her best dresses, a deep purple one with lace around the collar and a petticoat to go with it after she finished with the dinner. She wanted to look nice for Carlisle, especially considering he would be arriving all dressed up in his army uniform. Esme also hoped Carlisle's father would accept her more formal dress as a peace offering.

As she came down the creaky stairs, Esme heard the buggy pull up. Carlisle was home!

A few minutes later the door opened and Carlisle stepped inside. Dressed in the formal dark blue uniform complete with his lieutenant's bar, he looked every bit as handsome as Esme assumed he would look. What surprised her was how confident he appeared dressed in the uniform. Carlisle certainly didn't look as uncomfortable in it as his letters implied he was. Esme wondered whether that was because of his father's presence or if there was another reason. Whatever it was, Esme liked the way he carried himself in his uniform. It made him appear even more striking.

In fact, Esme had to resist the urge to throw herself in Carlisle's arms. But Esme knew it wasn't appropriate behavior in front of company, and Rev. Cullen was coming in right behind Carlisle, holding Edward. Even if she had been willing to bend the rules of propriety today, Esme knew Carlisle wouldn't want to be embarrassed in front of his father. So she settled for smiling right at Carlisle and saying, "Welcome home." Esme tried to put all the love in her voice with that simple sentence. It felt _so good_ to be reunited.

Carlisle smiled back with all his love shining in his eyes. From Rev. Cullen's arms, Edward gave everyone a toothless grin. Even Rev. Cullen gave a small smile, despite how angry he was at Esme when he left the house. It was a wonderful moment that made all three of them feel warm inside.

"That's a beautiful dress, Esme," Carlisle commented, after a few minutes of silence. "You certainly do it justice."

Esme nodded, thankful that he appreciated her effort to dress up for the occasion.

Rev. Cullen glanced at Esme and nodded as well. "It is nice," he said neutrally. She supposed from her father – in – law, it should be considered a compliment.

"Shall we eat?" Esme asked. "The roast lamb should be done now."

"Of course, Esme," Carlisle replied, taking her hand and leading her into the dining room.

Rev. Cullen followed without saying anything, still holding onto Edward.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Soon Carlisle, Esme, and Rev. Cullen were all sitting down at the table. Rev. Cullen sat in Carlisle's normal spot, at the head of the table, while Carlisle sat in between Esme and his father. Edward laid nearby in his wicker basket. "I will, of course, say a blessing before we begin the meal," the Reverend announced.

"Of course, Father," Carlisle agreed.

Esme nodded as well.

" _Heavenly Father, we thank thee for the honor that you have provided Carlisle with, in participating in this righteous war as a lieutenant in the army. Thank you for providing him with a great uniform with a wonderful lieutenant's bar, so he can make us, and you, proud. Thank you for giving him the training he needs before he goes to Europe to serve You. Please allow him to heal as many American soldiers as it is possible._

 _I know you serve the Americans. Please allow our country and the rest of the Allies to defeat the Germans before they destroy more of the world than they already have._

 _Thank you for giving Carlisle a worthy family as well. Help this family to continue to honor Carlisle while he fights for You in Europe. Please let Edward grow up strong, knowing what his father is doing for him. For all Americans. And thank you for this nice dinner, which we are about to eat together,"_ Rev. Cullen prayed, using what Esme called his "minister's voice." The voice was slightly louder than normal, and more precise with his wording. Esme wasn't used to hearing such a long grace before dinner, but she supposed it was fitting for tonight. She noticed that Carlisle seemed to be taking the prayer to heart.

Finally, the family began eating. Her husband smiled at her as he took a bite of lamb. "Nothing is better than you're lamb, Esme. You're already honoring me with this dinner."

Esme smiled back at Carlisle, feeling her heart explode with love for him. It was nice that he appreciated the dinner she'd worked so hard on, especially considering the comments her father – in – law had given her about the dinner. She'd also noticed the dinner was last on the "list" of things to thank God for in the prayer, although Esme tried not to read too much into it. Most of the other things Rev. Cullen prayed for were important to her as well, and they were obviously very important to Carlisle.

Rev. Cullen stayed silent, but the expression on his face as he tasted the dinner showed how much he enjoyed it. "When will you be leaving tomorrow, Carlisle?" he asked after a few minutes.

Carlisle paused as he finished chewing. "The train leaves at 9AM, but I plan on leaving the house at 8:15."

Rev. Cullen nodded in approval. "Excellent. You cannot be too early."

As they continued to eat, Edward began to fuss. "I believe he's hungry himself," Esme commented, taking one last bite of her dinner and a glass of milk to wash it down. She quickly picked Edward up. "Would you like some dinner, too?" she cooed at him as she left the room.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOOOO

Two hours later, Father climbed into his buggy and headed home. Carlisle sighed in relief as the buggy disappeared from the window. He was very pleased to see Father before going to Europe, but the man could be quite intense. Talking to him was a little stressful.

Carlisle was still staring out the window, deep in thought, when Esme appeared in front of him. She looked quite worn out from dinner and the clean – up she'd just finished. "Well, I think that went…about as well as we could expect, don't you?" The tone in her voice indicated she expected him to respond.

Carlisle looked at Esme carefully. "I know you would like to talk, but I need some peace and quiet for a while," he replied, hoping she would understand.

Esme looked disappointed, but she nodded anyway. Carlisle smiled gratefully at her as she sat down with the newspaper. He attempted to go up the stairs quietly, although the reality was listening to marching practice at the army base was probably quieter than those creaky stairs. Carlisle shook his head as he reached top. When he finally reached his destination, he tried to move even slower and softer so Edward wouldn't wake up. Fortunately, the nursery floor did not creak as much as the stairs.

Carlisle spent at least a half hour simply watching his son sleep. He looked at Edward's little body, laying all curled up on his stomach. He watched as Edward's back wiggled a little as his son breathed. He admired the little wisps of red hair on Edward's head. Esme had been correct; there was a lot more hair on his head then when Carlisle had left. From this angle, Carlisle could just make out one of Edward's perfect little ears as well. Watching his son this way, Carlisle was aware how helpless Edward was. It became even more important for Carlisle to go to Europe to do his part in the war. He had to stop the Germans. He had to do this for _all_ of his family.

At some point, Carlisle heard Esme come up the stairs and quietly step into the nursery also. They silently gazed at Edward for at least ten minutes before tip – toeing out of the room. After looking at each other for a couple of moments, they finally went into their own bedroom. Carlisle sighed as he settled on the bed with the headboard at his back. "Thank you for giving me a little bit of quiet time, Esme," he told her as she sat down next to him, leaning against the headboard as well. "Although "quiet time" definitely started _after_ I climbed the stairs," he chuckled softly as he remembered the racket the stairs had created.

Esme smiled and nodded. "Sometimes I forget how important that is to you. Especially on a night like this one."

"Yes. Thank you for inviting my father to dinner. I know he can be a bit difficult." Esme nodded, her expression showing how much she agreed with that statement. "But it was important to me that he was here, too. I realize things will be challenging in Europe, Esme. I may be a tiny bit uneasy about going," Carlisle admitted, voicing fears he'd barely wanted to acknowledge, to her. "But the prayer he gave tonight…he really reminded me why it's so essential that I go to Europe tomorrow."

Esme nodded. "I think I understand that." She leaned over and gently caressed his uniform, including his lieutenant's bar and the tie underneath his suit coat. "You look just as handsome as I thought you would in this, if not more so. Very noble."

Carlisle smiled her.

"It surprised me how confident you look wearing this, though," Esme continued, touching his uniform again. "In your letters, you mentioned you didn't like people looking at you wearing it, and you thought your father was making too much of a fuss about it."

Carlisle nodded. "Yes, I did. And I still think he spends a little too much time focusing on my lieutenant's status. But I've become more comfortable wearing the uniform now. Ever since I marched in the parade wearing it, I have realized I like what it represents."

Esme nodded again. "I do, too," she replied as her eyes looked him up and down. "Come. There is something I want to show you." With that she climbed off the bed and waited for him to do so as well. Then she led Carlisle to her small art room at the end of the hall.

The art room only had one window in it, but that was fine with Esme, because their house was equipped with electric lights. She carefully pushed the light in as they entered the room. Carlisle smiled as soon as he saw what was resting on the easel. Esme was in the process of painting a large American flag. He looked at her for several moments, then back at the painting. Then he turned his gaze back to Esme. "That's a wonderful painting, Esme," Carlisle told her, hoping that she knew how much it meant to him.

"Thank you," Esme beamed.

"I'm glad you found time to paint lately," he added. "I know that it isn't easy for you that I am headed for Europe tomorrow. And I remember how much your painting helped you after we lost Thomas. Please keep painting while I'm gone, Esme. No matter _what_ you paint." Carlisle's voice cracked with emotion as he finished speaking, which was unusual for him.

Esme looked surprised at the tone in his voice, but smiled at him and took his hand. "I will. That's what my mother told me as well." They spent another couple of minutes in the art room, looking at the painting and into each other's eyes. Carlisle let himself appreciate how gorgeous she looked in that purple gown. It really made her hair shine brightly and her skin glow. But as they continued to gaze at each other more and more intently, he couldn't help but think how much better it would be if she took her gown off. Her breasts, which were especially full because she was still nursing. The curve of her neck. Her hips. As Carlisle looked into Esme's eyes again, he knew she was the most wonderful woman in the world. In every way.

Finally Esme took Carlisle hand again and led him back into the bedroom. They both took off their clothes without a word, because words weren't necessary. The only thing that was necessary was feeling each other in this intimate reunion. Everything felt so natural and wonderful, exactly like it had been between them before Carlisle had left.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Carlisle woke up at dawn the next day, as usual, and dressed in his military uniform again. As he put the finishing touches on his outfit, Esme paused from dressing herself to watch him. Carlisle gave her a soft smile, glad that she enjoyed seeing him in the uniform. But as Esme returned to dressing herself, he noticed her smile had faded. She looked worried.

"Esme," he said her name softly, "I'm going to be all right. After all, I am not even going to be fighting, remember."

Esme sighed as she pulled her red dress, which was covered in blue flowers, over her head. "I suppose. It is just…this is harder than I expected. You are on your way to Europe now. To war. What might happen there? What might you _see_?" Carlisle nodded, understanding. Tentatively, he pulled her into a hug. "And that's if you even reach Europe," Esme continued. "I read in the newspaper recently that the Germans sunk the _Liberty_ before any of those men saw a battle." As she finished talking, Carlisle noticed his shoulder felt damp. His Esme was crying.

"Esme," he said her name softly, but deliberately. "I have heard about what happened to those men on the _Liberty_ as well, and I'm sorry about their fate. But we were trained how to survive if the German hit our ship on the way to Europe. I know what to do. I will be fine, especially with God on my side."

Esme nodded and dried her eyes. "Thank you, Carlisle. Knowing that makes me feel better. I'm sorry I broke down like that. I will be fine," she told him as she pinned her hair up.

Carlisle nodded as he checked his suitcase to make certain he had everything ready. A razor and shaving cream, toothbrush, clothing of course, and most importantly paper and pen to write home with and his travel Bible. As long as he had those things with him, Carlisle knew he could get through this.

Finally, Carlisle came the creaky stairs carrying his suitcase. He hoped Esme didn't mind if he had a cup of coffee before leaving. As he entered the dining room, Carlisle found Esme standing there with her large apron and Edward sitting right in the pocket. "I think you mentioned you'd like to see this while you were home," she commented with a big smile on her face.

A huge smile spread across Carlisle's face. This sight was even better than coffee. "I did, Esme. And Edward looks even cuter there than he normally does." He carefully took one his son's hands, and Edward grabbed one of Carlisle's fingers tightly, laughing with delight.

Carlisle nodded again as he looked at his wife and their baby. Their reunion had, indeed felt so good, and, as long as he remembered them and why he was going to war, he would be fine with whatever happened in Europe.

 **I found the historical information from this chapter in** _ **War Letters,**_ **edited by Andrew Carroll.**

 **Hope you liked this chapter. Whether you did** _ **or didn't**_ **like it, I'd appreciate it if you gave me a review. Tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, and what you thought could use improvement.**

 **Here's a response to the review for the last chapter.**

 **Bloomandgrow: Thanks, as always for the review. After the turn of twentieth century, United States treated soldiers on both sides of the Civil War as regular veterans. Of course, how much that was true often depended on which state you were in.** **Glad you liked how Carlisle overcame his discomfort, too.**

 **Oh yes, poor Junior, huh? Another one who thinks war is a big game… Of course he's probably making light of it for his sister a little, but still… He'll soon find out it's not that easy.**

 **As a doctor who is a aware of the health risks of "sleeping around" and as a minister's son, Carlisle has** _ **no**_ **interest in sleeping with other women. He has very firm morals. Nice, isn't it?**

 **I'm glad you like my history in this story as well. :) Although I will warn you that I _do_ try to keep it accurate, it isn't always possible. Some things I simply can't find information on, no matter how hard I try. (Like that ever - popular medical history for the time period. Grrr. At least this period is easier than 1911! But still.) Another thing that is completely inaccurate is the way certain ethnicities/culture groups are portrayed in this story. Carlisle's supervisor from the hospital in Columbus is Aro Pinero. He's Italian. The chances that an Italian - American would be a well - respected doctor in this period is almost zero. Also, in real life, the Irish - Americans were VERY against WWI, and most people assume Esme's maiden name, Platt, is Irish. **

**These details I had to fudge a little because this is supposed to be a _Twilight_ fanfiction, so I need to use _Twilight_ characters and the names that Stephanie Meyer gave us.**

 **Hope you enjoy it anyway.**


	6. On to Europe

On to Europe

 **Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Twilight.**_

 **Thanks to Bloomandgrow for reminding me about the rivalry between military divisions from one of her stories. And if you like** _ **The Sound of Music**_ **, you should check out her stuff.**

A month went by, and Esme didn't hear anything from Carlisle. She tried to tell herself there was nothing wrong. After all, she checked the newspaper regularly and there was nothing in it about Carlisle's ship sinking. Still, the war was obviously not over yet, either. While she waited for information from or about her husband, Esme busied herself with housecleaning and caring for Edward. She swept and washed the floors. She dusted the furniture. She washed Edward's diapers constantly. She changed and fed Edward whenever he needed to be. It wasn't quite enough work to stop her from worrying about Carlisle, but it helped a little.

Sometimes when she couldn't sleep at night, Esme also painted and drew. She finished the picture of the American flag and hung it in the living room, where she could always see it. Now she was attempting to draw a picture of Carlisle and Edward together. It was her hope for the future. As long as she believed Carlisle _would_ hold Edward again someday, Esme could continue to live.

Near the end of August, Esme had just finished feeding Edward and munching on a sandwich for herself when the mail arrived. The mail included a few bills and a letter postmarked from France. This was it! This was what Esme had been waiting for! Esme grabbed the letter and ribbed it open as quickly as possible. In fact, she tore it open so quickly, Esme realized she almost ribbed the letter in half. She chuckled to herself. Usually she was more careful than that. She must have been more impatient than she had thought.

"Look Edward!" she exclaimed to her son, who was playing on the floor with the keys again. It amazed Esme how he was able to get so many different sounds from them. Right now he jiggled them like bells. "It's a letter from Daddy! Would you like to hear it?"

"Ba ba ba ba ba!" Edward replied, who had recently started to say more consonants.

August 8, 1917

Esme smiled when she noticed the date on the top of the letter. Of course, it took at least two – and a half weeks to travel to Europe, and letters often took even longer to make it back to the United States. No wonder she hadn't heard from Carlisle earlier. If Esme hadn't let her worries bother her so much, she would have realized it before.

She chuckled to herself as she began to read:

" _Dear Esme,_

 _As you can see, I arrived in France without any problems. There were no German U – boats to contend with as far as I know, and the one storm we encountered passed without much trouble. It took us two and a half weeks to travel to France on the ship,_ the Union* _, and those weeks were fairly pleasant for me._

 _I did encounter a bit of a problem when I first boarded the ship. I tried to report to the sick room, or sick bay I think they called it there. I thought I would use my training as doctor there as well. But I was informed under no uncertain terms, that_ the Union _had its own_ great _doctors in the navy, and they didn't need "some army doctor" to get in their way, even if I was supposed to be a lieutenant. This surprised me. After all, I've been a well – respected doctor for several years now, and my skills were particularly praised in the Army hospital. Back at the base in Arizona, I was a little uncomfortable with how many young medics looked to me for advice. But I don't think that's so bad now. It's certainly better than being banned from this ship's hospital! Since the navy men are in charge of this ship, my doctor training doesn't matter. Some of the other army men explained that the navy often try to prove their better than the army men. I wish we would save these competitions for the real enemies rather than fighting among ourselves, especially over the right to treat sick and injured people. But apparently my opinion is the minority around here._

 _I had a difficult time trying to find something to do without access to the sick bay and the patients. Especially without you or Edward here to entertain me. I did read my Bible, of course, and discovered some passages that were particularly relevant to what I was about to partake in. They brought me some comfort. King David was required to fight for Israel, and it is discussed in the Book of Samuel. David also wrote extensively about his wars in the psalms._

 _After a few days on this ship, I also discovered to my delight, that your older brother was on this ship with me. "Junior" and I had some very nice conversations. We both talked about all the preparation we had participated in to become ready for what happened in Europe. We agreed spending over two weeks on this ship was a little difficult, because we were unable to_ use _any of that training. Ordinarily I am a very patient man, Esme, but traveling on the_ Union _was different. After all, I had been told I could not be a doctor on the ship at all._

 _Still, I was pleased to see someone I knew on the ship, and because of that, most of the rest of the trip was pleasant._

 _Once we arrived in France, however, I was sent to the hospital and your brother was sent to the trenches somewhere near_ _Germany_ _.** I don't think I will be seeing him again. I'm sorry, Esme. I know you would love it if we were closer to each other._

 _At first I was happy to be sent to the hospital and begin work right away. Certainly it was better than being told to stay away from the patients, like before! But then I began to see how many of my patients died. Of machine gun shots. Of regular gun shots. Of chlorine gas. I had to repeat some of those psalms over and over as I worked. Hopefully tomorrow I will be able to_ save _lives, as doctor should. I am a good doctor, right, Esme?_

 _How is Edward? Does he miss me? Is he still growing? Has he learned anything new?_

 _Have you finished your painting of the American flag?_

 _I love you and Edward, Esme._

 _Carlisle."_

"Well, isn't that interesting, Edward?" Esme asked as she set down the letter. "Daddy was on the ship with one of your uncles! Uncle Junior. They kept each other company."

Edward gave her one of his adorable toothless grins as he reached for his feet. "Da!" he cried victoriously as soon as he held them.

"That's right," she agreed. "Daddy." Esme knew her son didn't mean anything when he said, "Da" yet, but it was nice to pretend sometimes. Especially when they were already talking about Carlisle. "You play, all right Edward?" . She was happy to finally receive a letter from her husband, but she still had things to do today.

She was just about to start another load of diapers in the washing machine when the telephone rang.

OOOOOOOOOO

That night, Esme wrote a letter to Carlisle instead of painting or drawing. She wanted to send a reply to her husband as soon as possible. Especially considering he seemed so insecure about his abilities as doctor. Hopefully by the time her letter arrived, he would have saved a few people, so he would feel a little better. Still, Esme also knew he listened to her more than anyone else when it came to these uncertainties. He always had.

August 30, 1917

 _Dear Carlisle,_

 _I was happy to receive your letter and know for certain you arrived safely._

 _I'm sorry you have been facing so many setbacks as doctor, though. But let me tell you that I know you are a marvelous doctor. One of the best there is. I knew that from the day I met you when I was only sixteen. You_ listened _to me as I explained what happened and didn't judge me for climbing a tree at my age. Instead, after you had the facts, you treated my injury. I know you make a point to listen to all of your patients and treat them accordingly. Unfortunately, there is no way you can save everyone. Especially in a war zone. But I know more people_ will _be saved because you are there to help._

 _I was overjoyed that you saw Junior on the ship and I am glad you kept each other company. Hopefully I will hear from him soon as well. Sometimes I worry more about him than I do about you. Junior is supposed to fight on the_ front lines _, after all. And I know he's my older brother, but I wonder if he takes the war seriously. From the letter I received before, he seems a little arrogant._

 _We are taking the war seriously back here, though. The president has hired Herbert Hoover to be in charge of the "war at home" or the Homefront as he prefers to call it. He is showing all of us that we are just as important to the war as those of you in Europe. He encourages all of us to go without electric lights in the evening, so the money saved can be used for the war. I admit it has been difficult, as I have become used to electric lights in the past couple of years. Especially when I'm reading or painting at night. Or writing a letter, as I am now. But I can accept the lanterns again. I grew up with them, after all. Especially if it helps with the war._

 _Mr. Hoover also says we should have "meatless Tuesdays" in the name of patriotism, so more meat can be used for soldiers. I do miss meat sometimes, but I suppose you need it in Europe and at the training bases more than we do_

 _Earlier today I received a call from Mother. Amy had her baby! She and my brother Alan have healthy baby boy, whom they are calling Norman. I am glad it is a boy. He will be a good playmate for Edward when they get older. I think I may also gather some of Edward's old baby clothes that he no longer uses and give them to Amy when I visit in a couple of weeks. I wish you were here to meet the new member of the family with me, but I'm sure you'll see Norman soon. In the meantime, I know you are doing your best to make sure the young men there are able to come home to their families._

 _As for the rest of our immediate family, I have noticed Edward is saying more consonants when he babbles. I admit it is really cute. I guess that means he'll eventually be ready to say words. I hope you are home when he finally says "Daddy." Since he's already over six months old, many people have also told me I should feed him porridge, rather than just milk. If I do that, I will have to buy a high chair, though._

 _I finished the painting of the American flag and have started another one. I hope you arrive home to see it._

 _I love you forever, Carlisle. So does Edward,_

 _Esme_

OOOOOOOOOO

About three weeks later, on a warm sunny Tuesday, Esme and Edward had an early lunch so they could visit the farm. Esme was eager to see Norman and Amy as well as the rest of the family. She loaded the buggy with some of Edward's old clothes as well as some fresh diapers she had bought at the store. Then she put her son in his wicker basket and they headed out.

Edward fussed as she drove. He didn't like the wicker basket as much as he used to. Esme wished she could put him in the stroller, but the farm was much too far to travel that way. Especially with all the items she was bringing.

Eventually, Esme arrived at the farm. Rather than driving up to the farmhouse she'd grown up in, however, she continued down the driveway about half a mile until she arrived at Alan and Amy's small home, which had been built after they were married. Far in the distance she could hear the sound of Alan and Father working in the fields. Esme shouted a "hello" to both of them, then she parked the buggy in front of the little red house. Finally, to Edward's delight she took him out of his wicker basket and knocked on the front door.

A couple of minutes later, Mother answered the door, looking a little tired and out of breath. She must be here as Amy's baby nurse. "Hello, Esme! Hello, Edward," she still greeted them cheerfully.

"Ba! Ba!" Edward babbled in delight, at hearing his name.

"We came to see how Norman and Amy were doing," Esme commented. "I mentioned we would come over when I was able to a couple of weeks ago."

Mother paused for a moment and then nodded. "Yes. I remember. Come in, please," she told her daughter, stepping aside so Esme could come in the house. The sitting room was smaller than the one in the big farmhouse. It consisted of a rocking chair in the corner and a wooden chair in the other corner, with a small fireplace in the middle.

Esme smiled and did so. "I brought some of Edward's old clothes, as well as some diaper material in the buggy. Could you bring it in, please?"

Mother's eyes lit up. "Absolutely. I just finished washing a load of diapers, but there never seems to be enough."

Esme nodded in agreement, remembering how many diapers Edward went through when he was a newborn. After everything was brought in, Esme carefully laid Edward on his tummy on the wooden floor, and then sat in the wooden chair to help her mother sort everything. "Are Norman and Amy doing well?"

Mother nodded as she sat in the rocker. "About as well as can be expected. Amy is tired, of course. But they both seem to be in good health."

Esme smiled, relieved. "That is nice to here. Especially with what's going on in Europe. I received a letter from Carlisle a couple of weeks ago, and he said he'd lost _all_ of his patients his first day there."

Mother sighed as she finished taking care of all the new diapers and put them aside. "That must be difficult for him."

"Yes," Esme replied as she got up head to the kitchen. There, there was a pile of wet diapers waiting to be hung on the clothes rack nearby. "This is one of the things I was worried about when Carlisle decided to become an army officer. He's such a gentle person, so losing his patients is always hard for him. But to be over there, _surrounded_ by death, it's making him question his abilities as a doctor. I wrote back to him, telling him what a wonderful doctor I _knew_ he was. I hope that helps."

Mother entered the kitchen so she could begin hanging the diapers up as well. "I'm sure it will, Esme. Never underestimate how powerful words can be," she told her daughter firmly. They were both silent as Esme thought about what Mother said for a few minutes. In the stillness, Esme noticed how fresh the wet cotton material smelled. She hoped Carlisle was able to keep his clothing fresh. She knew how important it was to him that his clothing was clean, so it wouldn't spread germs.

Suddenly Esme remembered something else from Carlisle's letter. "Did you know Carlisle and Junior actually rode on the same ship to Europe? Carlisle told me they spent some time together."

Mother smiled as she put the last cotton diaper on the rack. "That's wonderful! I hoped to hear from Junior by now, but it's nice to hear about him indirectly." Finished with the laundry for now, Mother and Esme returned to the sitting room.

"Why don't you put these upstairs now?" Mother asked, handing Esme all of the baby clothes and new diapers she'd brought over. "I'll spend some time with Edward and you can see Norman and Amy."

Esme nodded, eager to focus on happier subjects. "I will." She walked up the wooden stairs and knocked on the master bedroom door.

"Come in," Amy's voice replied. Esme was glad she sounded happy.

"Hello," Esme greeted her sister – in – law, who was lounging on the bed. I brought you some more clothes and diaper material for Norman."

"Wonderful!" Amy sighed. "You can put them in that dresser over there," she commented, pointing to a small one next to a wooden crib.

Esme did so, noticing tiny Norman sleeping in the crib. Tiny fingers, tiny hands, tiny ears. Tiny everything. As Esme leaned in closer, she was relieved to hear the baby was believing regularly. There was no sign of this baby having lung fever like her Thomas had. "Oh, Amy he's adorable!"

"I know," Amy agreed. "When he's sleeping, he's adorable." She chuckled at that.

"H will be cute when he wakes up eventually. Trust me," Esme promised. She looked at Norman again. "I think he looks like Alan."

Amy nodded. "Yes. I do, too." She smiled softly at that.

"We'll," Esme commented. "I'm glad I was able to see you and the baby, but I should probably leave now. You'll probably want to sleep while you can." With that, Esme returned to her mother and Edward in the sitting room.

Before they left, Esme's mother mentioned Camille would really like to go to the next "Liberty Sings" in Columbus. "I was hoping you would go with her, Esme. I will be unable to. It comes right as harvest starts, so we will be busy here. But I think Camille should go if she wishes. She's still only seventeen. And with the new baby in the family, she hasn't had much of a chance to go out."

Esme nodded. She'd heard about the "Liberty Sings" in the newspaper. Different groups were expected to give concerts full of patriotic songs. It was another way people at home could show the soldiers their support. "Yes. I can do that, Mother. I've thought about going to one, anyway. And I think Edward would love the music." Esme picked her son up to sit in her lap. "You like music, don't you, Edward?" she asked in a bright, high – pitched voice.

"Ga!" he replied, sounding delighted.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOOO

Carlisle listened to his patient gasp for breath again. Another victim of the chlorine gas. This time it sounded as if the young man was choking. He motioned for a nurse to pick up some boiling water from the station on the far end of the hospital. Carlisle had read that steam could sometimes open airways for people that were having difficulty breathing. The efficient nurse returned with it faster than a jack rabbit, somehow not spilling the cup of hot water as she walked. But even though Carlisle thrusted the steaming cup under the patient's nose, the coking noises continued for another minute. And then suddenly he was silent.

As horrible as those choking noises were, the silence was worse. Because they meant Carlisle had lost another patient. After examining his aluminum tags, Carlisle realized the patient's name was John Zimmer. John Zimmer, who looked no more than twenty years old, with his sandy hair and deep blue eyes, was dead.

The nurse, whose name was Emily, at Carlisle sadly and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Dr. Cullen. I'll take care of the body." With that, the tall nurse wheeled John Zimmer's bed away with him on it.

Carlisle nodded, wiping the preparation from his face with his left hand while he still held on to that useless cup of steamy water with the other hand. "His name is John Zimmer."

Nurse Emily nodded her head without looking back.

Carlisle walked to the other side of the hospital to dispose of the steamy water. Another patient lost. Another patient who would never return home to his family. Carlisle reminded himself of what Esme told him in her letter he received recently. _You are a marvelous doctor. One of the best there is._ _And more people_ will _be saved because you are helping them._ He needed to believe that. Carlisle also reminded himself that God was with him. He knew Carlisle was struggling, and he would help. Because God believed in Carlisle and in their cause. Softly, he began reciting a psalm that he'd read several times in the last month.

As he finished, Carlisle looked in the opposite direction of the hospital and past the other doctors and patients, toward Private Liam McClooy, who was sitting up and trying to eat a sandwich with his left hand. Liam had been Carlisle's patient two weeks ago after receiving a bullet in his right arm from a field gun. Fortunately, that time, he was able to retrieve the bullet rather quickly, and Liam seemed to be healing well. He didn't even show signs of gangrene.

A red – headed nurse by the name of Siobhan was taking care of him. She cleaned his wound daily, she helped him sit up, she brought him food, and she even wrote letters home to his family after Liam instructed her what he wished to say. Carlisle walked closer to the patient, deciding it was as good a time as any for him to receive a check – up. He noticed the way Liam smiled at Siobhan and wondered, not for the first time, if they were developing feelings for each other. It wouldn't be that surprising. Many nurses developed crushes on their patients. And Carlisle was aware that a lot of women would find Liam's bright smile and good – sized muscles attractive.

Liam took another bite of sandwich as Carlisle approached the patient's bed. Half of it landed right on his chest. "…and the next time we write a letter to your mother, I'm going to tell her how messy you are!" Siobhan teased the man cleaning up the mess as she talked.

"It's not fair, Nurse Siobhan. I'm trying to eat left – handed, here!" Liam replied.

"Hello, Private McClooy. Can you put the sandwich down for a moment so I can examine you today?"

"Sure thing, Doc. I'm about done anyway," he commented as he handed what was left of the sandwich back to Siobhan. The nurse disposed of the rest of the sandwich while Carlisle listened to the patient's heart and lungs. He examined his throat and ears. Finally, he checked the gunshot wound. "Still no signs of gangrene. You are doing well," Carlisle told the man firmly.

"That's 'cause I've got a good doctor and a great nurse," Liam replied, grinning.

Carlisle nodded. "If this keeps up, we will be able to start you on physical therapy so you can start trying to use your arm again eventually."

"Great! I don't do too well with my left hand, Doc," Liam commented.

Carlisle nodded again. "So I've heard. Your nurse will help you with the exercises when we decide you are ready."

Liam's eyes lit up at this information and smiled as Nurse Siobhan returned to the patient. Carlisle reminded himself that no matter how many John Zimmers he unfortunately lost, there would always be a Liam McClooy to remind Carlisle why he was here. Esme was correct. More young men would live because he was helping them. These men would be able to go home because of Carlisle. Perhaps even fall in love and have families of their own, just like Carlisle had done.

 _*_ This isn't a real ship _._

**Censures would blot out parts of letters like this when they believed the letter – writer had given too much information about a soldier's battle location

 **Thank you for the follows and favorites, and particular thanks to the reviews. I'm sure you've heard it before, but reviews help me write. Really. So please keep them coming.**

 **Here's the responses from the last chapter.**

 **Carsme MoonBane: I'm glad you thought chapter 5 was emotional. It was supposed to be.**

 **Bloomandgrow: Glad you like the colors in Esme's art. Art is a big part of Esme's character, so I want to keep mentioning it. I also know that art can be wonderful therapy for some people, and Esme certainly could use a little therapy.**

 **Rev. Cullen is a character that I'm trying to set up as someone my readers for the YLOFA universe can't decide whether they like or not. On one hand, he ended up supporting Carlisle and Esme's marriage, and he helped them** _ **a lot**_ **when their son Thomas died. He's also a lot of inspiration for Carlisle's strong faith in God. On the other hand, as you have seen, he's incredibly controlling (and isn't nearly as charming as someone else :)** **). He can also be quite insensitive, as you also said. I will tell you that he lost a son before Carlisle was born. (Edward is named after him.) And his wife died when she was giving birth to Carlisle. (And he hasn't found anyone new since then.) You can take that for what it's worth.**

 **Glad you thought I did well with the emotions of going to war. I spent part of the summer reading some published war letters that deal with those emotions. Nice to know I absorbed some of it.**

 **History…always so much fun to write about in fanfiction. :)**


	7. It's Getting Colder

It's Getting Colder

 **Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Twilight.**_

 **I'd like to dedicate this chapter to my knitting teacher, whose patience and hands – on – instructions helped me just as much as Mrs. Smith helps Esme.**

A few weeks later, it was mid – October and Esme noticed the weather in Ohio was changing. She could no longer go outdoors without at least a thin coat in the evening. She tried to wrap Edward in a blanket as well, although sometimes he attempted to kick it off. The night of the "Liberty Sings" she would be attending with Camille was no exception. Esme wore a nice blue dress with a thin coat to match. Edward kicked and fussed in his wicker basket. Fortunately, he didn't remove the blue blanket yet.

"Sorry Edward," Esme apologized as she drove to her parents' farm to collect Camille. "I know you would rather be sitting up, but it isn't safe for you to do in a buggy." Esme had finally bought her son a high chair which he was enjoying. She also helped him practice sitting on his own, although he couldn't stay up for more than a few minutes.

Finally, they arrived at the farm. Esme noticed the flood of activity that was common during the beginning of harvest. Barrels were lined up near the edge of the fields, and she knew there were even more barrels in the barn. Some of the barrels were already filled with corn. She could see Father and Alan dragging a barrel each from the outer fields. Ordinarily, they would also have several young men hired to help bring in the harvest as well. But with so many young men in Europe now, many women seemed to be helping bring in the harvest instead.

Esme felt guilty for not helping her family with the harvest, but after all she did have Edward to take care of. And Mother insisted allowing her sister to go to an event like the "Liberty Sings" would help them. Camille stepped out of the house, dressed in floor – length green dress with a corset. (Esme still wasn't used to her sister dressed like a young woman, even though she'd been doing so for a year now.) Her sister also wore a small coat. "Hello, Esme," Camille commented cheerfully. "Thank you for taking me to this. I know the harvest is important, but…it can get old, you know?"

Esme nodded, remembering how tired of harvest she got when she was living at home.

"I hope some other girls will be going to this. Or even better yet, young men."

Esme shook her head. "Well, a lot of the men are in the military now." She found it ironic that Camille was so interested in meeting young men and finding someone to court her. When Esme was her age, courtship was the _last_ things she had wanted. Still, they were different people, she supposed.

"Yes. But a girl can hope, right?"

By the time she and Camille arrived at Columbus Public High School for the "Liberty Sings", it was starting to become dark. Esme admitted to herself it made her a little nervous, as she had always been told not to go anywhere unescorted after dark. Still, the parking area radiated excitement from everyone. Elementary children sang "Yankee – doodle" off – key.

"Tim! There you are!" someone shouted.

"I just love these concerts," another woman near them commented.

"Come, Esme, I want to find a nice seat," Camille commented as Esme picked up Edward to go inside. Esme decided these concerts put everyone in a friendly, patriotic mood. She and Camille would be safe. Besides, as she had told Camille before, most of the men weren't here anymore. And even though the sky was dark, there was plenty of light coming from the large school building. Apparently the school administrators had decided to use electric lights tonight, despite Mr. Hoover's encouragement to leave them off. Perhaps because they knew they would have so many guests. Esme admitted the lights certainly made her feel more comfortable as she and Camille made their way into the school.

They quickly found a place to sit on the bleachers in the gymnasium where they could still make out the place where the singers were. Edward's eyes grew wide as he observed all the different people talking, moving, and sitting down from Esme's lap. "Da!" he cried as he pointed to a lady's particularly bright red dress.

Camille smiled at the infant. "Are you excited to hear some music, Edward?" she asked in the bright, cheerful voice most people reserved for babies. "I think you are. Yes, you are." She patted his head, which was now covered with a thin layer of red hair.

Edward smiled back at her with one of his toothless grins.

Soon the principal of the Columbus High School stepped up and thanked everyone for coming. With that, the high school students began singing the first song, "My Country 'Tis of Thee." They also sang "Hail, Columbia," and a song which many of the older generation knew better, called "The Battle Hymn of the Republic." Finally, they finished with a children's favorite, "Yankee Doodle." Esme thought the music to some of the songs was better than others, but she enjoyed hearing all of the words. The songs really reinforced the importance of their country and why Carlisle and all of the other soldiers needed to be in Europe now.

Edward enjoyed all of the songs equally. He babbled as the students sang, seeming to be trying to chant along with them. When a song finished, Esme helped him clap his hands with everyone else. He giggled at the sensation.

As the show was almost finished, Esme's eyes landed on her former friend, Cindy, sitting with the faulty across the room. Was Cindy teaching at the high school now? Why would she be doing that if she was married? Could it be that her husband, Kevin, had been killed already? Esme remembered Cindy's words from their fight a few months ago. "I'm worried that my husband will come home in a body bag…" Had Kevin come home in a bag and Esme hadn't heard about that because she and Cindy weren't speaking? Esme suddenly felt chiller than she would on a winter day without a coat on at all at that thought. She squeezed Edward a little tighter to her chest.

When the show ended and the principal thanked everyone for coming, Camille noticed a few girls she knew in the choir and decided to talk to them. Esme listened for a couple of minutes, trying to make sure her younger sister was fine. But both girls seemed very nice and polite. To Camille's delight, the young ladies even invited her to meet a couple of young men from the high school who weren't old enough to join the military.

Since Camille seemed happy and safe, Esme decided she should finally talk to Cindy. Holding on to Edward at her hip, she made her way to where the faulty was. "Hello, Cindy," she greeted her. Cindy was wearing a light blue dress which agreed with her light blonde hair and a necklace that Esme thought she remembered had belonged to Cindy's grandmother. "Are you teaching again now?"

Cindy's face looked pleasantly surprised to see Esme. "Yes. I decided I needed something to occupy my time with Kevin…away now. And Kevin was worried about who would teach his students literature, anyway. Those tenth – graders mean an awful lot to him, you know."

Esme sighed in relief at the way Cindy spoke of Kevin. "So Kevin is still…all right? When I saw you were sitting with the faulty, I was afraid you had taken a job because something had…happened to him."

Cindy sighed and shook her head. "No, Kevin is fine, for now. About as well as can be expected, I suppose. A lot of married women are taking jobs now, Esme. People are getting desperate because so many men are becoming soldiers, so there aren't enough to do the domestic jobs. Haven't you heard how many women the factories are hiring?"

Esme thought for a minute. "I remember reading something about that, but I suppose I didn't pay much attention to it. I just didn't expect you to be working."

Cindy nodded. "Well, like I said, I'm happy to be working. It means I spend less time worrying about Kevin. And I'm also doing something to help Kevin by making sure these children learn something, so he has less to worry about. It kind of makes me feel closer to him. And the school knew I've taught before, even though it was at a different type of school. And since they knew Kevin wanted me to have the job, they were happy to give it to me."

Esme nodded. "That sounds like a good idea."

Cindy put her arm gently on Esme's shoulder. "Listen, Esme, I should have told you this before, but I'm sorry for what I said to you at the market. Just because you have different worries than I do about your husband doesn't mean you don't have any. If I hadn't been so stressed that day, I would have realized that. How are _you_ doing?"

Esme smiled. "Well, I have Edward, of course." She wiggled her hip and bounced him up and down a little.

Edward grinned and babbled at the attention.

"Taking care of Edward keeps me busy. And it's definitely one of the most important ways I can help Carlisle. If he knows his son is safe and being taken care of, he definitely has less to worry about."

Cindy nodded in agreement.

"When I have free time, I paint as well. You remember how much I liked painting in school, right? I've found it to be quite therapeutic, too."

Edward yawned and leaned his head on Esme's shoulder.

Cindy smiled at the image. "I'm happy to hear that, Esme. When we're both free, we should consider having tea together and talk more."

"Definitely," Esme nodded as well. "I'm sorry I said I wouldn't talk to you anymore at the market, too. I should have realized you were stressed when you said those things." She enjoyed the warm feeling that came from reestablishing her friendship with Cindy for a second. Then Esme added,. "I should find my sister and go home, though. This one's about to fall asleep." She patted Edward's head gently.

Cindy nodded again. "Of course."

As Esme drove home, she thought about what Cindy had said. How it was nice to work with the students Keven used to teach because it helped him and made Cindy feel closer to her husband. Esme wished she could do something like that for the hospital. Of course, as she told Cindy, she took care of Edward, which definitely eased Carlisle's mind and made her feel closer to her husband. Especially when Edward did something that reminded her of Carlisle. Besides, she did other things for Carlisle as well. Like writing him letters often and even limiting her electricity and consumption of meat. But if she could do something more…Esme felt a little jealous of Cindy, because she her friend was able to help her husband so directly.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOOO

One morning, Carlisle prepared for another day at the hospital with the other doctors and nurses. He washed his hands and gathered supplies. Meanwhile, Siobhan was already working with Liam on his physical therapy. It didn't surprise Carlisle that she'd arrived early. They two of them were becoming closer all the time and spent much of their free time together as well. It was pleasing for Carlisle to see Liam's progress. Perhaps this meant it would be a good day.

Soon, more injured soldiers than Carlisle could count were brought in from the trenches. Most of them were unfortunately dead before they were carried into the large room. Especially those hit by machine guns. Many of them were also victims of the chlorine gas. Carlisle shook his head as he watched other doctors pronounce man after man dead. It was the beginning of November and there was no end to this war or all of this killing. Carlisle wondered if having a good day once in a while was too much to ask. He looked heavenward for a second, reminding himself that God believed in their cause.

 _Please Lord, let me save someone today,_ he prayed. He hated it when they lost _everyone._ Carlisle looked at the man in front of him. He was already a pale white and Carlisle could smell a faint decay on the soldier's feet. It didn't look like this young man would be one of the lucky ones. He leaned over sighed. This man, James Baker, his tags said his name was, was gone.

Carlisle beckoned a nurse to come forward in order to take care of the body and he moved on to the next one quickly. He could hear moaning coming from this soldier, which meant the man was at least conscious. Perhaps this soldier could be saved? _Please God, let this man live,_ Carlisle pleaded as he started to examine him. At least he didn't smell decaying flesh on this soldier. Instead he seemed to smell blood. He quickly found the problem. A field gun wound in his left leg.

The blood had already stained his pants. Carlisle asked a nurse, whose name was Cathy, for some scissors to cut away the material. Then he quickly washed his hands and the wound with lye. He injected the man with morphine and began trying to retrieve the bullet. For a second, it looked as if the wound was too deep to reach it, but Carlisle finally managed to remove it from the man's body. Fortunately, Nurse Cathy had already provided him with all of the things he needed for stitching the wound. It looked as if this man might live. "You are going to be all right, Sir," Carlisle told the man. After checking his tags, he realized the soldier's name was Simon Jameson.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

An hour later, Carlisle checked on Simon again. To Carlisle's relief, the man appeared as if he was recovering, although Carlisle was sure he'd heard groans of pain coming from his bed before he arrived to check on him. "It will take some time for your wound to heal," Carlisle told him. "I can give you some more morphine for the pain if you would like." Simon didn't answer. Carlisle supposed he didn't want to admit how much he wished to have pain reliever. Sometimes the army encouraged the soldiers to be too tough for their own good. As Carlisle went to retrieve the morphine, he noticed his foot didn't look good. Taking off Simon's tattered boot and thin sock, Carlisle realized his left foot was blue. First degree frostbite. He hadn't realized it was that cold outside yet. He asked Nurse Cathy to obtain some blankets to wrap around the man's foot.

"Make sure you keep your feet warm in those trenches," Carlisle told Simon as he gave him the morphine and the nurse wrapped his foot. "Frostbite is something that can be prevented, unlike gunshot wounds. And the weather will only become colder in the next couple of months. I'd hate to see a soldier lose a foot simply because he wasn't wearing proper socks."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

That weekend many of the soldiers and nurses, including Carlisle, were given the entire night off. Many of the men discussed going to the bar in order to relax. Carlisle tried to caution the men to be careful, as he knew drinking too much could force them into doing things they shouldn't. Others even planned on going to the brothel. Carlisle tried to warn them of the diseases they could catch in those places, but most of the young men didn't care. Even the medics, who looked up to him as a doctor, didn't seem to care about his advice now.

Meanwhile, Carlisle retreated to his room. He tried to block the pictures of soldiers being in the hospital because of too much drinking or contacting sexual diseases. Didn't they know the hospital already had enough patients from the battlefield? Carlisle hoped he didn't end up with too many there because of carelessness as well.

For now, he focused on writing to Esme.

 _November 3, 1917_

 _Dear Esme,_

 _More soldiers are admitted to the hospital every day. Many, unfortunately, are dead by the time they arrive and the only thing doctors like myself can do is pronounce them dead and inform the nurses to dispose of the bodies. Sometimes I wish to go on the battlefield myself to retrieve the men. Perhaps if was able to treat them as soon as they received the wounds or other ailments, they would live._

 _And then I remind myself of all the patients there are in the hospital that need me already. Some of them do live because I am able to help them. I have to keep reminding myself that God wants me to be here. I also remind myself that_ _ **you know**_ _I am a good doctor, and I can save some of them. I am also able to help a lot of the young medics in doctoring, just like I did at the base in Arizona._

 _I do wish more men would listen to my advice outside of doctoring, though. Several of them went to the bar, or even to the house of loose women tonight. I hope none of them end up in a hospital bed because of their carelessness. We have enough in there already._

 _I have other health concerns as well, especially considering it seems so cold in France now. Much colder than it is at home in the fall. Yesterday I treated a man for a field gun wound. Although he seems to be recovering, I was surprised to see he had first degree frostbite on one of his feet. I didn't understand why he wouldn't dress properly for this weather at first. Then I talked to one of the nurses, and I found out many of the men_ **don't** _have wool socks to wear. The nurse said the American Red Cross should be sending us some soon. I hope they arrive before we have snow on the ground. First degree frostbite can be treated easily, but if this continues some men may lose_ **feet** _because of the cold._ _Or catch pneumonia._

 _Seriously, I'm willing to treat soldiers who are ill or wounded because of the Germans, but I hope I don't have to doctor too many patients for conditions that could be prevented._

 _I do not wish all of this letter to be so depressing, though. I promise you, I am not miserable here. It is nice to see patients recover, though, especially those that received injuries on the battlefield. One man who I have treated for a field gun wound is mending particularly well. Especially with the help of his nurse. I believe they are developing a romantic relationship, actually. Watching them work on the soldier's physical therapy reminds me of our early relationship, when I treated you for a broken leg and encouraged you to walk to me for the first time._

 _You were so beautiful even at sixteen – years – old, Esme. And you've only become more beautiful as time goes by. In fact, I was reading my copy of_ Shakespeare's Sonnets _recently. (Yes, occasionally I read other things than the Bible and medical textbooks.) I found a poem that I thought fit you perfectly._

As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st  
In one of thine, from that which thou departest;  
And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st,  
Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest.  
Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase;  
Without this folly, age, and cold decay:  
If all were minded so, the times should cease  
And threescore year would make the world away.  
Let those whom nature hath not made for store,  
Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish:  
Look whom she best endowed, she gave the more;  
Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish:  
She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby,  
Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.*

 _See, you're beauty called to me when we met, but you became more beautiful later, particularly after you became the mother of my children. Nothing is more beautiful than a mother, especially when she's my Esme. Both Edward and Thomas, even though he lived only a few days, was blessed to have you as mother. And I am blessed to call you my wife._

 _Speaking of Edward, I remember from your last letter that he is sitting in a high chair now and eating porridge instead of just milk. That makes me feel very proud to know how well he's doing, although I do wish I could see it myself. I hope I will be home before he learns to walk. Still, I love knowing you are there to take care of him, Esme._

 _Love always to you and Edward,_

 _Carlisle._

He finished the letter and sealed it in an envelope. Then he opened his Bible and prepared to read some more passages that would give him hope that the soldiers would be all right.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOOOO

A couple of weeks later, Esme drove the buggy to her first American Red Cross meeting, with Edward crying and fussing from his wicker basket. Carlisle most recent letter had certainly reassured her that he was loved her for being Edward's mother and was happy she was taking good care of him. She loved the way he had copied the poem of Shakespeare's in the letter for her, that discussed how her beauty had increased after she became the mother of his children. But just as importantly, Carlisle had answered her question of how she could help the army hospital more directly.

Carlisle had explained he was worried about the soldier's feet as the weather became colder. Out in the trenches in the French countryside, the weather was apparently a lot worse than it was in Ohio. The men needed wool socks as soon as possible, and the American Red Cross had promised to send some. If Esme joined the Red Cross, she could help Carlisle keep the men from acquiring frostbite or pneumonia. Perhaps the socks she could make would also help keep her brother's feet warm as well.

Edward let out a loud, shrill scream as the buggy accidently went over a bump.

Esme patted his head. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart, but we're almost there."

Edward unfortunately didn't seem comforted, but Esme couldn't drive to Mrs. Smith's house, where the meeting would be held, and hold him at the same time. Mrs. Smith was about five years older than Esme and was the wife of a one of the young factory managers. She had joined the American Red Cross, as a lot of women were doing, when her husband volunteered to serve in the army. She seemed like a pleasant woman who was happy to have Esme in their group, although Esme knew she was a little surprised Esme was not already a member of the Red Cross. Doctor's wives were often the presidents of these organizations.

Actually, Esme had thought of joining the Red Cross when she had married Carlisle, but since her husband's boss didn't really approve of her, Carlisle wasn't sure it was a good idea for Esme to spend a lot of time in the hospital where she would have to discuss membership. After that, Esme had been so busy with her pregnancies, she didn't have time to think about it. But now there was more to worry about than Aro Pinero's poor opinion of her, and it was time to do more than think about it.

Esme stopped in front of the correct house, a beautiful three – story home that was painted brown with white trim. She smiled, thinking it looked like a gingerbread house. Then she picked up Edward, who finally stopped crying, and knocked on the door. "Hello," greeted Mrs. Smith, the woman she'd met at the hospital to talk about joining. She wore a nice light blue – floor length dress and had her blonde hair pinned up. "Come in. Your son can play with the other children."

Esme nodded and walked into a large sitting room. About ten women were sitting in chairs with needles and balls of yarn in their hands. Mrs. Smith smiled, and then added, "the play room is this way."

Esme followed down the hall to a smaller room that was filled with toys. Wooden blocks and trains covered the floor. Several rag dolls lay on the floor as well. Two babies were crawling around, looking like the wanted to show off. A four – year old boy clapped in delight at their movement, so the babies continued. A an older girl who appeared about eleven or twelve was reading nursery rhymes to another baby and two little girls.

Esme nodded. Edward looked like he would be all right in here. "Would you like to hear some rhymes, Edward" she asked him, setting him down so he could listen.

Edward smiled, showing the two new bottom teeth that were growing in his mouth. He was delighted she had put him in a sitting position. "Da!" he exclaimed.

"Now I understand you told me you don't know much about knitting, but that shouldn't worry you. Some of the others here never really learned, either," Mrs. Smith reassured Esme as they returned to the sitting room.

Esme watched as some of the women moved their needles without even looking. _Three_ needles at once? How was that even possible? Worse, she noticed one of those women was her former employer, Mrs. Bishop. Mrs. Bishop was a lady who she worked for as a mother's helper while she attended school in the city. However, she never approved of Esme's relationship with Carlisle, believing that a doctor should marry in his own class. Mrs. Bishop gave Esme a fake smile as their eyes met. Esme didn't look forward to seeing her often again, but she reminded herself that there were more important things to worry about right now than what people thought of her.

As Esme stepped into the room, she saw a couple of other young ladies knitting more slowly and making some mistakes. She sighed in relief. Mrs. Smith was correct. Esme wasn't the only one who had never made socks before. Mrs. Smith picked up a ball of black yarn and several needles and handed them to Esme. "Now, sit near me and I'll teach you how to make those socks in no time," she commented, patting the spot sea – green sofa next to her.

Esme carefully sat down and watched closely as the woman began making the first stitches slowly.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

A week later, Esme still struggled to make progress with her sock. The stitches fell off the other end of the double – pointed needles, she made the loops too tight to continue, she constructed the wrong kind of stitches, or she missed stiches all together. One afternoon she did all of the above at the same time. Mrs. Smith was a wonderful teacher, and Esme didn't know what she would do without her. Still, the lady had a child of her own to take care of, a six – year old girl who asked questions about _everything_. Mrs. Smith was also trying to take over some of her husband's manager duties at the factory. And since Esme had Edward as well, finding time to meet so Mrs. Smith could teach her more about knitting socks was difficult.

As Esme noticed she'd missed another stitch, she unraveled her yarn and began again. For a second, she wondered why she'd never been interested in learning to knit while her grandmother was alive. Grandma used to make wonderful wool socks, mittens, and hats for their family. But Esme was more interested in climbing trees and drawing than she was in learning how to knit back then. And mother thought it was far more necessary for Esme to learn to sew and mend than knit.

Hopefully when she went to Mrs. Smith's house again for another Red Cross meeting, Esme could make better progress. In the meantime, she would try her stitches one more time. _As slowly as possible._

Only three stitches in, however, and Esme began to smell something from Edward that needed to be taken care of. So much for knitting today, Esme thought as she put her empty wooden needles and ball of yarn. Then she picked up her son, who began to fuss and wiggle, showing how uncomfortable he was.

OOOOOOOOOO

That night Esme put Edward in his crib, she felt that familiar neck pain and pounding between her eyes. It seemed learning to knit came with side effects that were more serious than just frustration. Every night this week she'd felt an ache in her neck and terrible headache. A couple of days ago she'd finally decided to buy some whiskey for the pain. As she poured herself a small glass, she tried to ignore the guilt that came with drinking this.

Carlisle didn't believe in using whiskey for pain. He distrusted alcohol and hoped prohibition would pass soon. He would much prefer she buy the new aspirin that was now available over the counter. But with Carlisle gone Esme needed the comfort of using her childhood pain reliever. Her father had given all of his children whiskey for pain at one time or another. What did it matter if it would've made Carlisle upset for Esme to drink whiskey every night? He wasn't here. Besides, Esme was trying to create those socks largely for Carlisle's benefit. _He_ was the one who was worried about the condition of the soldier's feet, so it was kind of her husband's fault her neck and her head were bothering her. Esme took a big gulp of the whiskey and waited for it to help dull the pain. The taste of it made Esme feel as if her father was with her, comforting her. In the dim candle light, she could almost believe she was back in the kitchen of childhood.

 ***Shakespeare's XI Sonnet.**

 **Thanks again for the reviews. Please keep them coming, because they help me write.**

 **Here's your responses.**

 **Bloomandgrow: First of all, I know you've seen some of this chapter before, but I like to look at things from different angles, and I have a feeling you do too. :) (And in case you're interested I DID post "Socks" before this chapter on purpose.)**

 **Yes, Carlisle certainly doesn't have it easy, seeing so many people die, and trying to save people that are beyond saving. At least he can depend on God and Esme. And, yes, the "Liberty Sings" are historically accurate, and certainly fun for me to discover. :) Glad it was enjoyable for you to read, to as well as the "no meat and electricity." Babies can be fun to write about, absolutely. Although sometimes I think I write too many of the "cute" moments and not enough of the "why did I become a parent again?" moments. But I'll do my best.**

 **Kiwihipp: I'm glad you like the story, and I'm glad to see I'm not the only one who enjoys reading other people's reviews. Definitely a great way to find new stories, huh?**


	8. Food and Thanks

Food and Thanks

 **Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Twilight.**_

 **Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it.**

Thanksgiving had arrived, and everyone in Esme's family gathered at the large farmhouse that belonged to her parents for the big meal. The smell of wild turkey in the oven filled the kitchen and the nearby sitting room. Mother prepared the cornbread stuffing in one corner of the kitchen while Amy prepared squash, green beans, peas, and gravy on the stove. Meanwhile, Esme mixed sugar, water, and cranberries for the cranberry sauce. Camille stood at the sink and washed every dish that was given to her. The four women had prepared Thanksgiving before, and they had learned to work together.

In the sitting room, Esme could see her twelve – year – old sister, Linda, playing with the newest members of their family, nine – months – old Edward and three – months – old Nathan on the rug. Timmy played with his marbles again on the other side of the room. Father and Alan sat on the couch, discussing something. Esme assumed it was probably how well their harvest was this year. The whole family was acutely aware of the two members they were missing this year, yet no one dared to mention either elephant in the house.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Eventually, it was time for everyone to sit down at the large table in the kitchen, with all the delicious –

looking food in front of them. Edward was delighted to be placed in a high chair as well, even if the wooden thing was so old Esme thought she may have used it herself. Still, it looked sturdy enough. He grinned, showing his two new teeth that were growing bigger all the time. Nathan laid in a wicker basket nearby, his stomach already full of milk.

"I have a surprise for everyone," Mother commented as she pulled a piece of paper out the pocket in her calico dress. Esme noticed Father exchanged as smile with Mother as she did so. "Junior finally sent a letter, and I thought this would be the perfect time to read it to all of you."

For a moment, there was nothing but silence that one of the elephants in the house was actually being discussed. Then the rest of the family's eyes lit up that they had _finally_ heard from one their absentee family members. It was certainly something to be thankful for. "That's a wonderful idea, Mother," Camille agreed.

"Definitely," Alan nodded.

"What does he say, what does he say?" Timmy asked eagerly.

Mother smiled. "Are you sure you want to hear it now? Wouldn't it be better to eat some food first?"

But although a couple of minutes ago, everyone's mouth had been watering at all the food, they all shook their heads. "Read the letter now, Mother!" Timmy begged. At his father's sharp look and slap on the hand, he added. "Please."

"If Junior were here, he wouldn't let us eat, anyway," Camille jested. The rest of the family laughed, as they usually did at her jokes. Esme was glad some things about her family hadn't changed.

"I'd rather hear the letter now, too, Mother," Esme added. The dinner looked good, but she'd been worried about her brother for the last few months, especially since she hadn't heard anything from him. He was fighting on the front lines, after all. Junior was more important than food.

" _Dear Mother and Father,  
_

 _I'm sorry I haven't had a change to write yet, but when I arrived in Europe, I was immediately sent to the trenches and my group hasn't been called back until now. I've spent the last three months doing a lot of tunneling, just like we practiced when I was in Texas. They weren't kidding when they warned us these trenches flooded easily!"_

Before she could stop herself, Esme pictured her brother standing in one of the trenches the newspaper discussed as it began to fill with water. Would it seep in through the ground or collect from the top when it rained? No wonder Carlisle had worried about the soldiers' feet! Especially considering the French and German countryside was much colder this time of year than Ohio. Esme hoped her brother would have some nice wool socks the next time he was forced to return to those trenches. Perhaps they would even be the pair Esme made. Mrs. Smith said her knitting was becoming better all the time, after all.

But Esme needed to pay more attention to Junior's letter, which her mother was still reading. "… _We spend a lot of time just_ waiting _for battle, once the new trenches are dug, we all find that a little annoying. We're here to kill those German dogs, not go after the rats in the trenches! There's one guy in my squadron, who's only a little younger than I am, who makes things a little better, though. His name is Dan. He tells the best jokes! Even better than Camille's. (Although most of them are not suitable for females' ears. Sorry, Mother.) But really, Dan is easy – going and a great new friend. I wish you could meet him, Alan. I think the three of us could get along well._

 _Dan and I fight side – by – side whenever possible, along with another guy named Jerry, who isn't as easy to talk to, but he's a great friend to depend on when the battles become tough. We usually use field guns to fight, although we'd all like a chance to run the machine guns. There doesn't seem to be enough machine guns for Americans' especially when you compare to those nasty German dogs._

 _Still, even though fighting battles were exciting, I am thankful we got called back. Especially since Thanksgiving is coming. The base cook is going to make us a nice feast, which all the men are looking forward to. I hope this letter gets to you, Mother and Father, before Thanksgiving. Perhaps you could read it while everyone was there in that case."_

Everyone sitting at the dinner table paused and smiled. Esme was glad that Junior wanted everyone to hear his letter.

 _From what I understand, my squadron will be ordered back to the trenches early next year, in either January or February. I'm looking forward to giving those German dogs what they deserve again, although I have to admit, I was a little surprised how many men died out there. And how easy it was for the Germans to see us from their airplanes and balloons. But don't worry, I'm determined to live, and with guys like Jerry and Dan watching out for me, I'm sure I will._

 _Enjoy your Thanksgiving,_

 _Junior"_

When Mother finished the letter, everyone smiled again. It sounded as if Junior was doing fairly well in Europe, especially with his new friends there to help him. Esme just hoped that would continue in the future. "Well, now that we've all heard from Junior, I think it's time to say grace, so we may eat," Mother commented, looking directly at Father, who always said the prayer for Thanksgiving.

Everyone bowed their heads as Father said the blessing. _"We thank thee Lord for this wonderful meal you have given us, and for the knowledge that Junior is well."_

Esme had to admit, it meant a little more to her this year. Prayer made her feel closer to Carlisle because it was so important to him. " _Amen,"_ she replied with extra emphasis as everyone else echoed "Amen" as well.

With that, everyone began passing the food around and filling their plates. Esme turned around and carefully cut a small piece of turkey into Edward – bite sized pieces. Then she added some peas as well. Since Edward had two new teeth, she and her Mother had decided it was time to try to feed him some real food. Esme carefully placed a piece of turkey on a spoon and attempted to feed it to him. Edward's mouth was wide open, grinning at all the people eating, but he spit the turkey out as soon as it landed in his mouth. "Ga!" he shouted as it flew right at Esme's blue – and – green calico dress.

Esme sighed as she looked down. _I am thankful for Edward. I am thankful for Edward,_ she reminded herself. At least she'd worn calico today because she knew she would have to work to prepare the meal. She picked up the dish of cornbread stuffing and placed a couple of spoon fills on her plate. Then she added turkey as it was passed back to her, peas, cranberry sauce, and squash. The food certainly smelled great.

"I'm certainly thankful we had such a good harvest this year," Alan commented as he took a bite of cornbread stuffing. "With the war, we were able to sell a lot of food to Europe. And we were left with plenty to for Mother to make her famous cornbread stuffing." He nodded to Mother, and then finished swallowing. "It's amazing, as usual," he told her. Mother beamed.

Esme took a bite of her own stuffing and let the taste of moist cornbread, butter, and spices fill her mouth. She agreed. The rest of the family did as well.

Mother beamed even more. "I'm thankful I have family that appreciates me so much," she told them.

"Personally, one of the things I'm thankful for is that we have wild turkeys available for thanksgiving. Even though we have these "meatless Tuesdays," because of the war, we can still have turkey!" Father commented, as he took a big bite of turkey.

"I'm thankful I'm part of this nice family," Amy commented, smiling. "And I'm particularly thankful I have a wonderful husband and a baby boy." She looked at Nathan, who was still lying in his wicker basket.

Esme finished a bite of turkey and then commented, "I'm thankful Junior and Carlisle are all right in Europe, and I'm particularly thankful we've received letters from them recently."

Everyone else smiled, grateful that the other member of their family was now being discussed. There was no more tension from elephants in the house. "What did Carlisle have to say in his letter, Esme?" Amy asked as she took a bite of the cranberry sauce. "Wonderful cranberry sauce, by the way," she added.

Esme smiled her thanks and then replied, "Carlisle is upset at how many men are dying, but he believes God helps him as much as possible. He is glad he's able to save some of the soldiers." With that, Esme turned around, deciding to try feeding her son again. "Would you like some peas this time, Edward?" she asked, scooping up a couple of them.

"That's good to hear, Esme," Mother's voice commented as Esme attempted to put the peas in Edward's mouth. He turned his head instead, and Esme almost shoved the peas into the boy's ear.

"Edward!" Esme exclaimed, exasperated. But he grinned at her, showing off his two new teeth and Esme's heart filled with love for him again. She turned around and took a bite of her cranberry sauce, and decided Amy was right. The cranberry sauce was very good this year. Not too sweet, but not too bitter either. Esme smiled again. She still wished Carlisle and Junior were with them today, but overall everyone was right. There was a lot to be thankful for.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOOO

The base cafeteria was full on Thanksgiving as everyone wanted to take part in the feast. Wall – to – wall tables full of soldiers covered the room as far as Carlisle could see, and there were still more arriving at the door. The room was rather loud for his taste, as men talked, feet stomped, and dishes hit he tables. Still, Carlisle appreciated how eager the men were to enjoy the meal. Actually, since he could smell the turkey from where he was standing, Carlisle looked forward to dinner as well.

"I look forward to that cornbread," Siobhan, who was standing near Carlisle, commented. The nurses were also eager for the meal.

Carlisle nodded politely, although he wasn't sure he wanted cornbread if it wasn't made by Esme's mother. At least it looked like the stuffing wasn't made of cornbread.

"Personally, I can't wait to sink my teeth into that turkey," Liam commented sniffing the air. "And since my arm is finally healed, I'll be able to eat plenty of it!" He moved his right arm up and down to demonstrate that his arm was healed.

Carlisle nodded in agreement as his mouth watered at the smell of the turkey. "I'm so glad you've recovered, Private McClooy," he told the other man.

"Me, too," Siobhan grinned, patting his arm as she did so.

As they finally began to reach the food, they each picked up a trey and utensils. Carlisle could smell the delicious turkey even more strongly now, as well as potatoes, cornbread, and stuffing. The sudden blend of smells made him long to be with Esme and Edward, celebrating Thanksgiving at her mother's house.

Ahead of him, a man, who looked to be about twenty – four years old complained, "Can't you get those mashed potatoes out faster, boy? I need to eat, too you know," to the man who was serving. Carlisle had seen the server many times in the cafeteria before. He was colored man who appeared to be about Carlisle's age.

"I'm going as fast as I can," the colored man replied, as he dished out another scoop of potatoes to the next man in line.

"Whatever," the man who had complained replied in a sarcastic manner. "I know you people are all slow but if I have to fight those stupid German dogs, I need to eat."

The colored man shook his head as he scooped some potatoes into the complainer's trey. "At least you're able to fight. The military won't let me handle a gun so I'm stuck doing kitchen duty." As soon as he said this the colored man looked shocked, as if he never meant to say such a thing. "Forget I said that, sir. Happy Thanksgiving."

The complainer finally moved on in the line to receive his turkey, but Carlisle could hear him mutter, "One of _you_ with guns. Yep, that's funny."

As Carlisle smiled at the colored man who dished out the mashed potatoes, he realized he had more to be thankful for than he thought. He may not be with Esme, Edward, and the rest of their family, but he was able to contribute to the war the way he wished to. No one in the army told him he was unfit to be a doctor. On the contrary, Carlisle was a well – respected doctor, who the younger men looked up to. The colored man, it seemed, wished to fight for his country but was unable to do so. _Yes,_ Carlisle thought to himself as another man put a big slice of turkey on his trey, _I have a lot to be thankful for._

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Carlisle stood with his food at table next to Siobhan, Liam, and a few of the other doctors, all talking amongst themselves. There weren't enough chairs for everyone, so Carlisle had given his to someone he thought needed it more. After all, Carlisle hadn't been injured _at all_ , unlike some of these men who'd hurt their legs, feet, or hips on the battlefield. A couple of the men also _did_ have bruised feet from second – degree frostbite. (He _certainly_ hoped more socks from the Red Cross came soon.) Yes, as Carlisle was reminded in the food line, he had a lot to be grateful for. He was thankful to be healthy, so he didn't need a chair. Many other men were standing up as well.

The base chaplain and General Goner stood at the front of the cafeteria as everyone was finally served. "Attention!" the general yelled, and suddenly, to Carlisle relief, all the noise ceased. Those that weren't standing immediately did so, and everyone saluted the commander.

The tall man with greying hair saluted them back, and then commanded in a voice Carlisle was sure they could hear all over France, "The chaplain will now lead us in a prayer of thanks." With that, he stepped back and the base chaplain stepped forward.

The base chaplain was much younger than the general. Carlisle thought the chaplain probably wasn't much older than him, although he had much darker hair than Carlisle. The chaplain began the prayer in a voice that reminded Carlisle very much of his father's. " _Lord we thank thee for all of the food in front of us to share together. We thank thee for the opportunity to serve you in this war. We thank you for not taking our lives in this war, but rather allowing us to serve you on Earth._

Then the chaplain finished with a psalm.

" _I praise you, Lord, for you raised me up_

 _and did not let my enemies rejoice over me_

 _Oh Lord my God,_

 _I cried out to you and you healed me_

 _Lord you brought me form going don wot the pit._

 _Sing praise to the Lord you faithful;_

 _Give thanks to God's holy name._

 _For divine anger lasts but a moment;_

 _Divine favor lasts for a lifetime._

 _At dusk weeping comes for the night;_

 _But at dawn there is rejoicing._

 _Complement, I once said,_

 _I shall never be shaken._

 _Lord when you showed me favor_

 _I stood like the mighty mountains_

 _But when you hid your face_

 _I was struck with terror._

 _To you Lord, I cried out;_

 _With the Lord I pleaded for mercy:_

' _What gain is there from my lifeblood,_

 _from my going down to the grave?_

 _Does dusk give you thanks_

 _or declare your faithfulness?_

 _Hear, O Lord, have mercy on me;_

 _Lord be my helper.'_

 _You changed my mourning into dancing_

 _you took off my sackcloth_

 _and clothed me with gladness._

 _With my whole being I sing_

 _Endless praise to you._

 _O Lord, my God,_

 _forever will I give you thanks."*_

" _Amen_ ," Carlisle finished sincerely along with everyone else, thinking it was a very fitting psalm for this occasion thinking of all the men that had been injured, but he and the other doctors had healed them with God's help. Then, Carlisle finally took a bite of the delicious turkey. Liam, Siobhan, and everyone else around him began eating as well.

 ***Psalm 30, St. Joseph edition.  
**

 **Speaking of Thanksgiving, I'm thankful that I have so many readers for this story! And I'm even more thankful for those that have given reviews.**

 **Here's your responses.**

 **Kiwhipp: Yes, this story is a pretty somber one altogether, because it's about war, although there are some happy moments, too. (Like this chapter.)** **And yes, it's horrible that they had so little materials to finish WWI. I'm also thankful I have people to talk to about history!**

 **Bloomandgrow: I'm thankful to consider you a friend, as well. :) And yes, poor equipment was a problem in WWI. It's interesting you both picked up on that; they'll be more about that in the next chapter. And yes, Esme and Cindy are both in a stressful situation.**

 **Women and work. Yeah, I had to say something about that. :) Probably be more later, although I'm not sure.**

 **Glad you liked the Shakespeare Sonnet. Carlisle and Esme are known as a very "intellectual couple," so between that and the time period they live in, I think Shakespeare's Sonnets and other poetry would be a part of their relationship. But as soon as I read that one, I knew that was the best one to choose. I agree, it's too bad so many women (and men) think women have to stay young and skinny to be beautiful. Fortunately Carlisle isn't one of them. :)**

 **Yeah, the brothels, etc. are tough. On one hand, Carlisle is correct that they can catch diseases by using them. Not to mention that a lot of them are married or in relationships back home. But on the other hand, some of them ARE going to die, and they need a way to relax, and to most of them, booze and sex is the best way to do that.**


	9. Bittersweet Christmas

Bittersweet Christmas

 **Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Twilight.**_

The weekend after Thanksgiving, Esme was in Mrs. Smith's sitting room again, knitting socks with nine other women. She had finally managed to finish her first sock and was working on something Mrs. Smith called "the heel flap" for the second one. Now that Esme had learned all the stiches for socks and practiced them enough, her work was being completed much faster than it had before. Esme hoped to finish this sock by the next weekend so her wool socks could be shipped to Europe by Christmas.

"Well I'm not sure what to do about President Wilson," said one of the women sitting on the far left corner in a beautiful wooden rocker. The woman appeared to be about Esme's mother's age. Esme thought her name may have been Cook. Or Cooper, perhaps? She seemed to remember the woman had two sons in Europe right now. "He and his staff aren't handling the war very well."

"Well I don't know, Mrs. Cooper," commented Mrs. Bishop, who was sitting on an easy chair. "I think President Wilson is doing the best he can under the circumstances. He needs our support, you know."

"Well my Sam tells me their supplies are low in Europe," mentioned another woman who was about Esme's age, and sitting on one of the sofas. "They don't have enough weapons to fight as they should, and their uniforms aren't made for the cold weather in France and Germany. Why do you think they need us to make socks?"

Esme nodded as she examined her stitches to make sure they were correct. Then she returned her attention to the conversation, letting her hands feel the wool and needles on their own. "Yes, I've heard that from my brother. And Carlisle is worried about the soldier's feet, too."

"I've heard people are discussing having an inquiry about the Presidents' operation," Mrs. Cooper commented. "Sometime in December. I think the sooner it happens, the better. Our men need to be treated better than President Wilson is willing to do."

"Well, all I know is that my factory is making shells as fast as we are able to do so," Mrs. Smith said sharply.

"Oh, no," Mrs. Cooper shook her head. "I'm not blaming you. And I'm sure no one else is either."

The rest of the woman all shook their heads at the idea that their friend, and the current president of the American Red Cross in Columbus could be responsible for the low supplies in Europe. "I know you are working as hard as you can to keep the factory running and make sure those shells are made. But there just isn't enough factories to make the supplies we need, especially the machine guns. President Wilson needs to find a way for us to have more factories."

"And how do expect him to do _that_?" Mrs. Bishop replied. "It isn't as if factories are under federal control. It all depends on who is willing to open one and hire workers. You know, I should report some of you to the justice department. The radio is always saying we should inform them of people who talk pessimistically about the war."

Mrs. Smith shook her head. "I don't think those rules apply anymore. After all, so many people are not satisfied with President Wilson any longer. This kind of talk is all over the papers _and_ the radio, you know." She paused and looked over to Esme and another young woman who had just learned to knit socks recently. "See, I knew both of you would do well!"

Esme smiled back, realizing she was almost done her "heel flap" on the second sock. She paused to admire her work, as well as the other woman's, whose name was Ms. Abbot. Ms. Abbot was engaged to one of the men oversees. Knitting wool sock really wasn't that difficult at all. Both of their socks looked almost as nice as all the other women's.

Mrs. Bishop, who was apparently still every bit as much as snob as used to be, gave Esme one of her fake smiles before she continued, "I just think this is a righteous war and President Wilson is doing the best he can to fight it."

Just then, one of the children came running into the room. "Mama, she won't let me have a drink!" complained a girl who looked about six. She had long blond hair.

The twelve year old girl who looked after the children followed after her. She had darker hair, although it was about the same length as the child's. "Martha, I don't think your old enough for real tea yet."

"Martha!" the girl's mother commanded. "Is this true? Did you ask for real tea?"

Martha looked at the floor. "Yes."

Martha's mother slapped the girl's arm. "You know better than that. You use _pretend_ tea for your tea parties."

Several other children came running into the room at that point. "Mom, what are you doing? Mom, can I help? Is it time to go yet?"

Esme slipped several stitches because of the distractions.

The twelve year old girl shook her head and announced, "All right it is time to return to the play room. I'll read you all a new story."

All of the children sighed, but as their mother's nodded, they obediently returned to the other room.

"Children," all of the women commented at the same time, chuckling, as they returned to knitting. Esme nodded as she picked up her needles and her yarn. She remembered how many times her siblings had acted like that. She wondered how many times Edward would try interrupt her as he got a little older.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Esme worked steadily at finishing her second sock whenever she had time available. She also made time to finish the drawing of Carlisle holding Edward that she had been sketching for the past few months. Esme had hoped that Carlisle would be home by Christmas, but obviously, the war wouldn't end soon. If she finished the drawing quickly, Esme would be able to mail it to Carlisle along with her next letter for Christmas. Esme ran her hands over the sketch of Edward's and Carlisle's happy faces, knowing how much Carlisle would appreciate this. She paused and added another subtle line to show how full Edward's cheeks were.

As she continued drawing, Esme thought about how much she was looking forward to Christmas this year. Even though it was quite disappointing that Carlisle would not be home, it would still be Edward's first Christmas. She expected that Edward would enjoy seeing the church decorated for Christmas, with all of the red and green colors, the angles, and the candles they lit on Christmas Eve. Esme hoped he would enjoy the Christmas tree she would buy for the house in a couple of weeks. She wouldn't be able to put candles or popcorn on the tree this year, because Edward was too young. But she hoped Edward would be amused by the holy berry and the wooden ornaments. She would read him "Twas the Night Before Christmas," of course, just as Esme's parents had done when she was young. And Carlisle would probably like it if she read the Christmas story from the Bible, about Mary and Joseph and the shepherds. Then they would go to the big farmhouse for Christmas dinner. Esme just hoped Edward would eat a little more than he did at Thanksgiving.

Esme yawned, realizing she should go to bed soon. She put her charcoal pencil aside and left the room to wash her hands, knowing they would be covered with black smudges by now.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Esme returned home from the store the next day, happy about all the things she had bought. Not only did she buy plenty of food for the week, but she also found a new ball of brown yarn that would be perfect to make socks for Father and Alan. Considering they both did some hunting and trapping, they could probably use them when Esme finished the socks for the Red Cross. She had also bought Edward and adorable green shirt and black pants that would make her little man very handsome at church on Christmas Eve.

"So did you like the green shirt Mama bought for you, Edward?" Esme asked as she took him out of the buggy and carried him inside, holding him on her hip.

"Ga – ga, ga," Edward babbled happily, showing his two bottom teeth.

"Yes, it will look wonderful with your red hair," Esme continued as she put Edward down in a sitting position on the rug, and rubbing his head affectionately. After putting the house keys in front of him, she dashed outside to retrieve all of the items she'd bought.

She had just finished putting away all of the food and stopped to admire the Edward – sized Christmas suit again. "You'll look like a little elf," she smiled at her son, who was still jiggling the keys and laughing with delight.

That's when the telephone ran.

"Hello?" she greeted the person on the other end of the line, as soon as she picked the telephone.

"It happened, Esme," Cindy's voice sobbed on the other end of the line. "I thought I was prepared for it, but now I don't know what to do, and…" Esme's best friend's voice trailed off as she continued sobbing.

Esme pulled the earpiece closer, as if it might be able to explain what Cindy meant, but all she could hear was her friend's crying on the other end. "Cindy," Esme said patiently into the mouthpiece, "I understand you're upset, but I'm afraid I don't know what you are upset _about._ "

"Well," Cindy began, obviously trying to compose herself, but Esme could still hear sniffs through the telephone. "I received a message today. From the military."

At that, a horrible thought suddenly occurred to Esme. Surely it wouldn't be…Not when Christmas would be here soon! But why else would Cindy receive a message from the military? Why else would she be so upset? Nervously, Esme waited for her friend to continue, but Cindy had started sobbing uncontrollably again.

Finally, Cindy continued, "They said Kevin died yesterday! I don't understand it, because I just received a letter from him last week, and he said that he wouldn't be fighting for another couple of months! He was ready to enjoy Thanksgiving! They said something about mustard gas, but I just don't…" Cindy paused and Esme could hear the sound of her blowing her nose.

Esme wished she could wrap her arms around her friend to comfort her. But she couldn't, so she replied, "Carlisle has mentioned something about those gas weapons. Sometimes they don't affect a person right away."

Cindy sniffed through the telephone again, and then replied, "Yes, I think I remember reading something about that now. I just…when I received his letter last week, I thought 'now I don't have to worry about him for a couple of months. He's not in battle anymore.' And now…" she started sobbing again.

Esme paused, thinking that was _exactly_ what she had thought when they had received Junior's letter. Junior stated his group was done in the trenches for a couple of months. Could her brother be next, to die from this mustard gas, which apparently could affect a soldier without any warning? Then Esme shook her head firmly. Cindy was what was important right now. "Would you like to come over here?" she asked her friend gently.

Cindy sighed. "I would, but I have to write to Kevin's parents, and Mother told me she would be here tonight. Perhaps tomorrow?"

"Of course," Esme agreed automatically.

"Ga, ga, goo, ga!" she suddenly heard at her feet as Edward tugged at her skirt. Where had he come from? Sometimes Esme forgot how quick Edward could be now that he knew how to crawl. She patted his little hand, grateful for him bringing a little cheer into her life right now.

"I also have to make plans for the funeral today," Cindy continued. "I will be sitting with my parent's, and Kevin's of course, if they can come quickly enough. But…you'll come, right?"

"Absolutely," Esme replied.

"I will give you the details tomorrow then," Cindy finished, as she ended the conversation.

Esme looked at the telephone again, as if it would have answers why this had to happen. During _Christmastime_! Then she picked up Edward and told him, "This Christmas is going to be more difficult than I thought." How could Esme have a Merry Christmas now? And yet, how could she not try to give Edward the best first Christmas possible?

She shook her head, suddenly remembering the argument she and Cindy had last summer about the war. "I'm worried my husband will come home in a body bag…"Cindy had said. At the time, Esme thought her friend was belittling Esme's feelings about Carlisle going to war. But now she wondered if Cindy may have been right. As a doctor, Carlisle would probably survive the war. Not necessarily unscarred, but still. Kevin had fought on the front lines and paid for it with his life, just as Cindy had worried he would. Esme looked at Edward, who was playing with Esme's sleeves. Cindy would never have a baby with Kevin, either. She put Edward down on the rug, as the guilt from all the things Esme had that Cindy never would overwhelmed her. Hot tears filled her eyes, and Esme brushed them away.

Edward picked up the keys on the floor and jiggled them again, laughing with delight as the he often did. He was still her little elf.

Esme sat down next to her son and sighed. "Well, the war definitely isn't over, yet. But I'm glad to see your happy, Edward."

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOO

Carlisle woke up on Christmas morning and looked at the drawing Esme had given him of Carlisle holding Edward. He wished he could see his family on Christmas, but Carlisle loved that Esme had given him this picture since that wasn't possible. It was a wonderful black – and – white drawing of Edward, from his chubby cheeks to his two new teeth that Esme had written to him about. It was the perfect reminder of why he was hear and what he would be returning to someday.

After looking at the drawing for several minutes, he set it back down on the nightstand and picked up his Bible. In the last few weeks, he read about the genealogy of Christ, the birth of John the Baptist, and Mary and Joseph and the angels. Today he would read about the Birth of Christ. About Mary and Joseph, the shepherds, and the angels singing.

For about an hour, Carlisle was completely lost in the Christmas story, but as he finished, he realized the breakfast bell would ring soon. He quickly shaved, noticing how drafty it was at the base in his night clothes. It was unfortunate that they didn't have a good coal supply. Still, it couldn't have been very warm in the stable where Jesus was born, especially at night, and he did fine. Carlisle also knew as chilly as the base was, it was much better than the men who were in the trenches right now. It was fortunate that the shipment of wool socks that had arrived from the Red Cross had been delivered directly to the men on the front lines.

As he completed dressing, the breakfast bell went off, and Carlisle hurried to the cafeteria.

The base cafeteria was full of men who were happy to be celebrating Christmas instead of working. Yet, most of them missed their families terribly, and the air was a little tense because of this unspoken pain. Still, many tried to make the best of it. Some sang Christmas songs with surprisingly good voices such as "Jingle Bells," "Here We Come A – Wassailing," and the like. Carlisle noticed that no one even mentioned singing "Silent Night," much less tried singing it though, which he supposed made sense. After all, "Silent Night" was originally a German song, and who wanted to be singing something that was written by the people that were causing their problems? Other men talked about the gifts they had received from family members. Many, to Carlisle's disappointment, looked forward to becoming drunk on the Christmas rum that would be served later that day. In the front of the room, next to the kitchen there was a two – foot evergreen tree that one of the soldiers had managed to find.

However, Carlisle knew there was at least one man who intended to have the best Christmas he'd ever had. Liam had decided to propose to Siobhan this Christmas.

 _He and Carlisle had left the base one Saturday evening that they had leave. And instead of running to the bar or the brothel, they headed for the jewelry shop to choose a ring. "I know, it probably seems like it's too soon," Liam commented as they walked. "We have only known each other for a few months."_

 _Carlisle nodded. He_ had _wondered about that, although he was willing to help his friend. "But this kind of environment…I think it brings people closer together. I feel like I've known Siobhan for years, Doc. I know she's the one. And I want her to have something permanent from me before I have to return to the battlefield."_

 _Carlisle patted his friend on the back. "I understand." With that, they entered the jewelry shop, and between the two of them, they were able to speak enough French to find what they were looking for. Liam bought a pearl ring on a sterling silver band that he could afford and he was sure Siobhan would love. Carlisle smiled at the look on Liam's face as exited the shop. Carlisle remembered that feeling of joy and excitement when he'd bought Esme her engagement ring._

After they all received their breakfast of eggs, bacon, ham, toast, and juice, the base chaplain said the blessing and everyone began enjoying their meal. Well, almost everyone. Liam, who was sitting next to Carlisle, sighed, fidgeting with something in his pocket. He looked at Siobhan, who smiled back at him. "I was going to wait until the party this afternoon to do this, but I don't think I can wait that long." With that Liam knelt down on one knee, and began pulling something out of his pocket.

As he did so, he grimaced a little. Carlisle realized his right arm must still be bothering him a little. Siobhan automatically reached up to rub it, lecturing him, "Be careful."

"I'm fine, Siobhan," he protested. "It's just the drafts in this place are making it a little sore. Will you let me finish what I'm doing, please, before you turn all 'nurse' on me?" he asked her, obviously a little frustrated.

Siobhan nodded and stepped back. With that, Liam pulled out the ring he'd chosen. "Will you marry me, Siobhan?"

Siobhan looked at the ring and then at Liam for a second before she nodded and hugged him. Everyone in the cafeteria clapped and whistled. Finally the happy couple returned to their seats and _everyone_ began their Christmas breakfast. Siobhan put her left hand on the table so she could proudly display her beautiful band as she ate. Carlisle smiled at the happy couple as he remembered proposing to Esme on Christmas Day four years ago. Once again, it was the season for miracles, even if they were only small ones.

OOOOOOOOOO 

That evening, Carlisle returned to his room. He had enjoyed the Christmas party earlier, even though he believed there were far _too many_ people drunk on the rum that was being passed around. Still, everyone sang and danced. Even those that didn't have much aptitude at these activities contributed. After all, who cared about talent at a Christmas party, when everyone was enjoying themselves? Siobhan showed her ring to everybody and people wished the couple well. After the wonderful Christmas dinner, Carlisle decided to read the letter he'd received from Esme in his room.

He'd received the letter two days ago, and read it a few times since then. Although Carlisle was very grateful for the picture Esme had given him, he was worried about Esme. It seemed she was going through a difficult period when she wrote the letter. Perhaps her mood had improved since then, but Carlisle still wished to think of the best words to make Esme feel better.

So he read the letter again.

 _December 11, 1917_

 _Dear Carlisle,_

 _I am including the latest art project I finished in this letter. It is a charcoal drawing of you holding Edward. I had hoped that when I completed it, you would be on your way home, but the war is obviously going to continue for a while longer. I do hope this letter reaches you before Christmas, so you can at least see a picture of Edward on that day._

Yes Esme, Carlisle thought to himself, God allowed your letter to arrive before Christmas so I could see Edward. Better yet, a picture of myself holding our Edward. His heart swelled with love and gratitude at Esme's thoughtfulness. The only thing better would have been a picture of Esme as well. Perhaps she would mail him one next time?

Then Carlisle sighed as he began reading the more troubling parts of the letter.

 _I have to admit, I am struggling to remain happy this Christmas, even though I'm trying for Edward's sake. I knew Christmas without you here would be difficult, but last week, I received news that really tore the Christmas spirit out of me. Do you remember my friend Cindy's husband, Kevin? We went to their wedding a couple of years ago, and they've come to dinner at our house a few times. Well, Kevin has died in the war. Cindy said they told her he died of the mustard gas, which apparently can strike a seemingly healthy man._

 _I knew the war was real, Carlisle. The newspapers are certainly making that clear. And even if I didn't believe those for some reason, your letters make it even clearer. But somehow, hearing that my best friend's husband was killed forces me to see the war less abstractly. Is this war really worth it Carlisle? Is it worth making Cindy a widow after she's only been married two years? She doesn't even have a baby yet! And now she never will. Not with Keven, anyway._

 _Yesterday, I went to his funeral which was held at our church. It was already decorated for Christmas, yet we were there because someone died. Kevin. A man I've seen eat my mashed potatoes and my chicken casserole. A man who's made my best friend so happy. It was like all those Christmas decorations were mocking me and all of us at the funeral. How could this have happened during_ Christmastime _? How could God have allowed it, Carlisle?_

 _I suppose I should buy a Christmas tree for our house soon. Edward deserves it, if nothing else. But when I remember how much seeing those Christmas decorations at the funeral hurt me, I'm not sure I can go through with it. Still, I did buy a nice Christmas outfit for Edward to wear on Christmas. He looks like a little elf, with his red hair coming in and the green shirt._

 _I will be going to Mother's for Christmas Dinner this year. Maybe my feelings will improve by then. I do hope so. Although I admit becoming worried my brother as well. Cindy said Kevin had written to her before that his regiment had been called back to the barracks before Thanksgiving, just as Junior's was. She thought it meant he would be safe, at least for a few months. But if this mustard gas can strike a soldier without warning, could Junior be hurt by it, too? Could my mother receive a message from the military soon?_

 _Speaking of the military, a lot of people here are becoming disappointed in the way President Wilson is handling the war, if not the war itself. We've heard that you're very low on supplies at the bases and in the trenches, and many people think the President should fix these things. There's even talk of an inquiry on President Wilson. I wasn't sure how I felt about this before. I knew you're low on supplies, but I wasn't sure it was the President's fault. But when I think of what happened to Kevin, how he died without any warning…surly the President can do more? Provide better medicines, more doctors and nurses, perhaps? Or better weapons to fight the Germans so they don't attack us like that?_

 _Oh Carlisle, how am I going to survive this Christmas? How am I going to survive this war?_

 _Love,_

 _Esme_

Carlisle shook his head, once again wishing he was home with Esme so he could comfort her the way he wished to. If he was with her, he could wrap his arms around her as she cried in their bedroom. He could buy her new paints, because he was aware how much art helped his wife when she was upset. Still, he could still write something that might be able to help her. After all, Esme had helped him with her words of encouragement in her letters. And Carlisle had finally collected his thoughts enough to start writing.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOOOO

On the other side of the ocean, Esme sighed as she watched Edward try to put Timmy's red Christmas stocking on his head. He grunted and babbled for a few moments before he finally stretched it to make the perfect little elf hat to go with his green shirt. Mother and Father smiled and laughed as Edward grinned, showing his three teeth. Her family had all gathered at the big farmhouse again for Christmas dinner. Esme was glad Edward was happy with the rest of her family, but she still couldn't really find her Christmas spirit this year. Even the huge Christmas tree in the corner of the room didn't help. She shook her head and returned to the kitchen to stir the gravy.

From the next room, Esme heard Amy laugh as baby Nathan blew a raspberry. Timmy blew one back him. She continued stirring the sauce, feeling like an outsider in her own family. The only one who wasn't happy today. At least the gravy smelled good.

Several minutes later, Mother appeared, ready to cook the canned peas and carrots as Esme took out the wild turkey for basting. "Esme, I know you're upset about your friend's death, but I wish you'd try to be happier," she commented. "It _is_ still Christmas." Mother tilted her head to indicate the rest of the family in the sitting room. Esme could hear their happy laughter as they talked excitedly over their presents.

Esme nodded as she put the turkey back in the oven. "I know, Mother. But I just can't stop thinking about it. Why did he have to die during _Christmastime_? You know, when Cindy and I first realized our husbands were volunteering for the army, we had a fight? She said that I didn't have as much to worry about as she did, because Carlisle was a doctor and would probably survive the war, and she didn't know if hers would. I thought she was belittling how the war would affect Carlisle emotionally, and hence me as well. But now…I wonder if she had been correct. She'll never see Kevin again, but I can continue writing to Carlisle. And he'll probably come home again." She stirred the gravy once again, moving the spoon faster and faster as she kept talking.

Mother sighed. "That might be true, and I wish this hadn't happened to your friend. But don't let what happened to him ruin _your_ life Esme. You have a wonderful son and a great husband who's helping the soldiers in Europe. You have a family that loves you. Alan loves the wool socks you made for him." She reached over and stopped Esme's intense stirring. "Careful. You don't want to stir it so hard it spills."

Esme nodded and slowed down, suddenly feeling like a twelve – year – old who was being lectured by her mother about the correct way to cook. "I know," she sighed, wishing her mother wasn't right this time. She turned around and began washing some dishes.

"I meant to make some socks for Father as well," Esme commented after several more minutes of silence. "There just wasn't enough time. Perhaps I'll make some for him soon."

Mother pulled out the turkey and basted it. Esme inhaled the intense smell of the bird and her mouth watered despite itself. "I think your father would like the new socks," Mother told Esme pleasantly.

"And thank you for the new hair clips, Mother," Esme added, trying to sound more cheerful.

"You're welcome."

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Later that afternoon, they all sat down to Christmas Dinner. After Father said the grace, they began to enjoy their meal. Although they'd just had turkey a little over a month ago, no one complained, as it was an easy animal for Alan and Father to catch. Even Edward seemed to enjoy it, as he chewed several pieces, instead of spitting out all of the turkey.

"Edward does look very handsome in that green shirt, Esme," Father complimented her.

Esme smiled as she swallowed a bite of peas. "Yes, I think he looks like a Christmas elf, especially with his red hair." She turned and fed her son another bite of turkey. "Do you know you're Mama's Christmas elf, Edward?"

Edward grinned as he chewed the bits of turkey with his three teeth. "Ma – ma!" he babbled, suddenly.

Esme dropped the fork she was using to feed him. "Did he just say – "

Amy smiled as she ate a piece of cornbread. "Was that the first time he said that?"

Esme nodded, not sure what else to do right now. She looked back at her son again. He smiled and babbled "Ma – ma!" again, to everyone's delight.

Mother smiled as she cut up a piece of turkey. "See, Esme it _is_ still Christmas. And what a Christmas gift you have received from Edward!"

Esme nodded. "Your right, Mother." She leaned over and patter her son's cheek affectionately. "Thank you, Edward, for reminding me that Christmas is still the season for miracles. Like the one you just gave me." Esme looked down at the ruby engagement ring she still wore, remembering the miracle that was Carlisle's proposal four years ago. Christmas was still the season for miracles today. Edward's special word had reminded her that, and given Esme her Christmas spirit back.

 **I'm sorry I had to give you a death in a Christmas chapter, but it's just the way the story works. I hope I was able to balance it enough with some fluffier moments to make it bearable. And maybe it will remind you of all the blessings you still have this holiday season.**

 **Thank you for the reviews from the last chapter, and please keep them coming.**

 **Here's your responses.**

 **Kiwhipp: Yes, it** _ **was**_ **nice to have such a positive Thanksgiving chapter. I'm glad you liked the psalm. I knew there were several psalms that would be appropriate for Thanksgiving, but I particularly that one in the last chapter because it was thanking God after being saved from a battle. As for peace…unfortunately, that's a little longer to wait.**

 **Bloomandgrow: Glad you liked the way I wrote the Thanksgiving feasts. And thanks for the compliments on my writing.**

 **Glad you liked (well, probably not the right word, but I'm sure you know what I mean) the part about the colored man. I took a lot of classes on race in the US when I was in college, so I really enjoyed referencing that in this story. I read a letter from one of the superior officers asking the government for permission for Blacks to actually** _ **fight**_ **in the war rather than just assist. The letter was unanswered. :(**

 **In my head, the man complaining was drafted, although I wasn't able to really go into it in the story. I thought it was an interesting exchange between a white man who's being** _ **forced**_ **to fight, and the colored man who wanted to but wasn't allowed to.**


	10. A Different War

A Different War

 **I don't own** _ **Twilight.**_

Three weeks after Christmas, Esme returned home from having tea with Cindy. Esme was pleased that her friend had decided to come back to Columbus, after all, considering Cindy had said she was thinking about living with her parents. Esme could understand why Cindy might not want to live in the home Kevin had brought for the two of them, but she was happy her friend was still nearby.

" _It's difficult sometimes, being in this place," Cindy admitted to Esme as they sipped their drinks at her dining room table. "Sometimes I still expect him to walk in the door, or find him sitting in his chair, even though he hasn't been here for months. But I finally decided I needed to return to my students. Kevin left them in my care, and I couldn't abandon them."_

 _Esme nodded. "I'm glad to hear your still teaching. I know how much you've always enjoyed it." She had a feeling teaching would also give her friend's life a purpose, now that she had no husband._

As Esme arrived home, she realized she had another letter from Carlisle. Esme sighed with relief that her husband was still alive and able to write to her. She still felt guilty sometimes for all the things she had that Cindy did not, but Esme also knew her mother had been right when she talked to her on Christmas. She couldn't let those kind of thoughts ruin her life. Esme occasionally thought she was fighting a war within herself on how to deal with Kevin's death. Should she feel grateful that she still had Carlisle and Edward or remorseful? Esme clung to the letter like a life preserver with one hand and held Edward just as tightly on her hip. Today she felt grateful. "Look, Edward," Esme exclaimed as the entered the house. "It's another letter from Daddy!"

"Da, Da!" Edward replied, reaching for the letter himself.

Esme's heart soared, realizing the word actually had meaning this time. Edward associated his father with the letters he wrote. "That's right, Edward!" she smiled at him as she sat down in her rocking chair with Edward and the paper. "Would you like to hear what Daddy has to say?" she ruffled his red hair as she spoke.

"Da, Da!" Edward grinned, showing his three teeth.

" _Dear Esme,_

 _I am so sorry to hear that Kevin died, especially during Christmastime, and that it made enjoying Christmas so difficult for you. I will tell you that God is still here for you, Esme, even when you have a hard time feeling close to him. Still, I also understand you might not want to hear that right now. I didn't like to hear much about God for a while after Thomas died, either. I wish I could be there to comfort you in person, but I hope my letter will make you feel a little better._

 _First, let me assure you that Junior would not die from mustard gas, at least not at this time. Mustard gas_ does _strike seemingly healthy soldiers; I will admit that. I've seen several men in the barracks suddenly have to be taken to the hospital because their body feels as if they're being burned from the inside. So sad, because there is nothing we can do for them. But if Junior were to be affected by the mustard gas, you would have heard about it by now, believe me._

 _Things are still difficult here. I lose men every day because of chlorine gas, machine guns, and even field guns sometimes. The cold weather in France is tough for everyone. Many of the men are not used to winter at all. For those of us that are, this winter seems colder than any we've experienced in the past. The socks the American Red Cross sends us help, but the men wear through them quickly. So many men still have frostbite. Some even have blisters. Influenza season is also beginning, as I have found several men come down with it in the last two weeks._

 _But despite all the problems, we managed to have a nice Christmas celebration, with a party and a nice dinner. Best of all, my friends Siobhan and Liam have become engaged on Christmas. Do you remember mentioning them in previous letters? They remind me a lot of you and I, Esme. After all, they met when Siobhan was treating Liam's arm, just like you and I met when I was treating your leg. And now they have become engaged on Christmas, just as I proposed to you. I try to focus on the good things I see and experience here. I hope you will find a way to do that, too._

 _Speaking of good things, I loved the picture you made me of myself holding our boy. It's exactly what I need to remind me why I'm here and what I need to return to. I keep it next to my bed. The only thing better would be to have a picture of you as well. Do you think you could make me one in the future?_

 _I love you, Esme. Never forget that. It helps me to know that. I hope it helps you, too._

 _Love,_

 _Carlisle"_

Esme smiled as she caressed the words on the page. "Yes, Carlisle. It helps." With that, she put the letter aside and placed Edward on the floor. It was time to prepare dinner.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Esme was preparing to write another letter to Carlisle the next day when something happened that seemed to change everything she knew about the war. Two things, actually. The first was President Wilson's Fourteen Points were published in the newspaper. President Wilson explained exactly what Americans fighting World War I were trying to achieve in those fourteen points. Some of the ideas included free sea navigation, open trade agreements with all countries, all countries would reduce their military, colonies would be readjusted for fairness, and the creation of an association of nations to keep peace, which should all be implemented after the war ended. It seemed the President _really_ wanted others to understand that winning World War I would promote democracy and peace. Esme had been struggling to accept World War I ever since Kevin died, but reading President Wilson's Fourteen Points made it clear to her that World War I was still just.

The other thing was much more personal. Alan had been drafted. Now both Junior _and_ Alan would be fighting in a war with machine guns, chlorine gas, and that horrible mustard gas that could apparently strike a seemingly healthy man. And that was _if_ Alan actually arrived in Europe, Esme thought to herself, thinking again of those horrible German u – boats who sometimes sunk ships of soldiers before they saw a battle. Esme shook her head as she walked into her parents' big farmhouse and reminded herself that World War I was a just war. Her parents were hosting a dinner for Alan before he left, just as they had done for Carlisle and Junior.

"Mama!" Edward exclaimed as they went into the sitting room, pointing his finger at the floor next two baby Nathan, who was lying on the rug.

Esme smiled, understanding that he wanted to play with his cousin. It was apparent that both of them remembered each other from Christmas, as they gave each other big baby grins. "Be careful, Edward," she warned her son, "Nathan is a lot smaller than you are." Still, she placed Edward next to Nathan, realizing Amy was nearby. With that, Esme went back outside to bring in the rolls she'd brought with her.

Esme smiled as she came back in saw Edward shaking Nathan's hand. Amy was quick to remove his other hand when it got too close to Nathan's eyes. Then made her way to the kitchen, where her mother was putting the finishing touches on the brown sugar ham and Camille was stirring the carrots and peas. She put the rolls on the table and inhaled the smells that were filling the room. Despite the serious note of tonight's dinner, Esme was very much looking forward to the ham. Because of the war, they didn't often have meat especially ham, but Mother had decided a ham was appropriate for tonight. And it wasn't Tuesday.

OOOOOOOOOOO

The meal was the _exact_ opposite of Carlisle and Junior's farewell dinner. Instead of dead silence as everyone ate their chicken, the entire family wouldn't stop talking.

"I wish I could go to war in Europe," Timmy complained innocently as he took a big gulp of milk. "Will you tell us what it's like, Alan, just like Junior does in his letters?" The milk mustache he left on his upper lip added to his innocence and the rest of the family looked horrified at the idea of little Timmy joining the war.

"Of course I'll write to you, Timmy," Alan promised as he took a bite of the delicious brown sugar ham. Esme paused and took a bite of the ham herself and then a piece to Edward. "But I have to say, I don't think joining the war is anything to get excited about. Remember how Junior talked about all those rats that live in the trenches? And his Christmas letter commented how cold it was, even on the base?"

Timmy puffed out his chest in what he obviously believed was a manly way. "Those things wouldn't bother me!"

Alan sighed and took a bite of carrots. "While, I think they might bother _me._ I'm not trying to sound weak or anything, but it doesn't sound like the French countryside is the kind of climate I'm used to. I don't know how I'll get used to it," he grumbled.

Amy smiled at him as she took a sip of milk. "I'm certain you'll be fine. After all your brother is handling it, isn't he?" Esme assumed she was trying to be brave, because there was _no way_ she could be that causal that her husband was headed to fight in a war.

Alan sighed and took a drink of milk himself. "Yes, I suppose. I just…why did I have to get drafted?" He shoved a pile of peas in his mouth and chomped on them extra hard in frustration. "I know the war is justified and everything, especially because of President Wilson's Fourteen Points. But I thought I was doing my part _here_ , on the farm. Helping my father and my family, and supplying the troops at the same time." He looked at Father and Amy intensely as he said that. "And now, because they changed the draft age to eighteen to forty – five, I get called to "serve in Europe!" He practically screamed the last line.

At the sound of Alan's scream, Nathan suddenly began to fuss. Amy sighed and removed herself from the table. "Sorry, Amy, he called to her as she picked up the baby.

Mother finished a bite of ham and then looked at her son. "It was very nice that you decided to assist us on the farm, and because of that, we acquired a lot more acres. But it seems you are going to serve us in a different way now."

"By helping _all Americans_ you may be doing more for us than you did on the farm, son," Father commented. And I'm sure the farm will run fine with you gone. I've got a fine young man right here," he said as he patted Timmy's arm.

Timmy beamed as he took a bite of peas.

"And Camille is still here to help, and Linda and your mother as well. We'll be all right."

Camille and Linda nodded in agreement.

Alan sighed and stabbed another bite of ham. "I guess. I just wish I didn't have to leave _now._ My family is just getting started," he stated wistfully, glancing at Amy and Nathan in the next room.

Esme nodded sadly at her brother, thinking of how hard it was for Carlisle to be away from her and Edward. "I know it's difficult. But Amy will send you letters about Nathan and everything. We all will. And knowing your family is here will give you something to try to come back to."

Alan sighed and nodded. "Stupid draft," he still grumbled.

Esme turned around and fed Edward some peas and then a piece of ham. "Your Daddy will come back, right Edward?" she commented. "Just like Alan will come back to Nathan and Amy," she added pointedly to her brother.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOO

Carlisle had another exhausting day. Fortunately, he now had a letter from Esme to enjoy. He clutched the precious letter tightly as he headed for his room that night. Carlisle was glad he knew his way around the base, as the place was now black, with only a sliver of light from the crescent moon to guide him. In the last few months, the general had decided they needed to eliminate as much light as possible on the base. With the German airplanes and hot air balloons in the sky, the American's didn't want their enemies to see more than they had to.

Finally, Carlisle reached the barrack, listening to the joking and wrestling from the younger soldiers in the distance. It was nice to hear some of them were well. In the last few days, Carlisle had encountered many soldiers, both from the trenches and in the barracks, who had influenza. Now in addition to chorine gas, gunshot wounds, frostbite, and an occasional illness from the brothels, Carlisle also treated many patients for ordinary influenza. Or course, it was that time of year where the disease was unfortunately very common.

Carlisle found it interesting, and rather sad, at how many of the medics had to look to him again for instruction on treating influenza. These new doctors had treated hundreds, sometime thousands of gunshot wounds. They knew exactly what to do for a patient affected by chlorine gas. And yet with a patient with influenza, some of them weren't sure how to handle it.

" _Give them lots of fluids,"_ Carlisle had to keep telling the new doctors. " _Make sure they're resting, no matter how much they complain about it." "Keep they're fevers down."_

" _Are you sure they're isn't_ more _we can do, Dr. Cullen?" some of them protested. "Is there a_ special _drink we can give them?" "A better way to relieve their fever's than just ice? The ice melts so fast!"_

" _Sorry, there is no miracle cure for influenza," Carlisle had replied sadly as he handed a patient a drink of tea and watched another doctor do the same. "Aspirin can also help to bring fevers down, though. You're welcome to try that."_

 _The young doctors nodded and immediately gave their patients with fevers doses of aspirin._

Carlisle sighed as he turned the corner in the dark to enter his own room, listening to the other men yelling. He'd never been fond of loud noises, but he supposed these men had to relieve tension somehow. He should be grateful they weren't _all_ at the brothels or out drinking tonight, although he knew most of them were. After all, the squadrons were about to change places again. Tomorrow all the men in the barracks would be back in the trenches, actively fighting the Germans again and trying not to get killed.

Eventually, Carlisle made it to his room and sat down to read Esme's letter. As he opened the envelope, he realized his wife had painted him a beautiful self – portrait, just as he'd asked her for. He smiled as he caressed the image of Esme's gentle, loving face and gorgeous caramel – colored hair. After studying the painting for several more minutes, Carlisle finally put it on the nightstand next to the drawing of him and Edward. Then he began reading.

 _February 12, 1918_

 _Dear Carlisle,_

 _I appreciate your words from your last letter, especially about Junior being safe from the mustard gas for now. It helps to know he should be safe from that for now. Mother also received another letter from him for Christmas, and she says he's seems to be doing well. Although certainly doesn't like the cold weather in France, but from what I understand, not many of you do. I, and the other members of the American Red Cross, will continue to make socks to try to help._

 _I admit I am feeling a little better about Kevin's death, though it will never be easy. Cindy has decided to keep her teaching job, so I am pleased I will still see her here in Columbus._ _I'm also trying to be grateful for all the things I have, rather than feeling guilty that I have what Cindy does not. As my mother wisely told me, I can't let those thoughts ruin my life. And I do have so much to be grateful for. I know you're still alive and healthy, and you send me letters regularly which I treasure. And Edward is a joy, of course. In fact, on Christmas day, he actually said his first word. He looked at me and said "Ma – ma," as I was feeding him at my mother's! It was such a wonderful moment. You should be pleased to hear that Edward also seems to recognize_ you _, in a way. When I received your last letter, he pointed to it and said, "Da – da!" He knows you wrote it, Carlisle! And I'm certain when you return home, he will say "Da – da," directly to you._

 _A few weeks ago, your father stopped by to give us a Christmas present. It was a very nice professional photograph of Edward. He was difficult, as usual, particularly considering I was struggling to accept the necessity of the war at the time. Still I really appreciated the picture of Edward. I put it right next to our wedding photograph in the center of the sitting room. He also told me that his church would be hosting the "Liberty Sings" next month and that Edward and I must be there. Have I told you about the Liberty Sings? Different groups perform patriotic songs for the public. I went to one back in October put on by Cindy's high school class. I promised him that we would attend. As difficult as he is, I know he's your father and Edward's grandfather. And he does love spending time with our Edward._

 _President Wilson recently explained the purpose of this war in what he calls his "Fourteen Points." It is such a different perspective on the Great War, it's almost as if it's a different war all together. After reading that, it is much easier for me to understand why the war is necessary. And even why sacrifices, like Kevin's life, are unfortunately necessary. Many other Americans, who had been questioning President Wilson's leadership before, agree with me. I placed an article about the Fourteen Points in with this letter for you to read. I think you will find them just as enlightening as I do, if not more._

Carlisle paused and found a newspaper clipping hidden in the envelope as well, which recorded President Wilson's speech on his Fourteen Points. After quickly reading the article, Carlisle agreed wholeheartedly with Esme. He found Wilson's Fourteen Points _extremely_ enlightening, and he could see why Esme now thought of the Great War as different war all together. Wilson seemed determined that winning Great War would not only usher in democracy, but bring on world peace as well, and clearly explained how that peace would be achieved when the allies won. Carlisle had already accepted that God approved of this war. But reading the President's plans caused Carlisle to support the war even more than before.

After several minutes, he put the newspaper article aside and continued reading Esme's letter.

 _Although I support the war a lot more than I did last month, someone in my family is struggling to accept his role in the war. Since they changed the age required for the draft, Alan has been called to go to war. Alan says he understands the necessity of the war, but he thought he was already doing his part, by supplying food for the troops. But now he has to do much more than that. He's in training camp now. Soon I'll have two brothers to worry about fighting in the trenches. Not to mention you. I'm glad you're not fighting Carlisle, but sometimes I worry about your mental state. I hope you are all right._

 _I'm glad you loved the drawing of you holding Edward. As you asked, I also included a picture of me in this letter. A painting this time, which I hope you like. Painting and drawing are another thing I'm grateful for, especially when I can make them for you. This letter should reach you about the time of Valentine's Day. So I hope you enjoy the paining as a Valentine's Day gift._

 _I love you Carlisle,_

 _Esme_

Carlisle smiled at the knowledge that Esme was doing much better than she had been in her last letter. However, his smile faded as he realized today was February 12. Valentine's Day was two days away. Even if he mailed something _tonight_ (which wouldn't be possible, as the postal service was closed for the night), Esme wouldn't receive it by Valentine's Day. He'd have to find something special to make up for it. Carlisle pulled out his copy of _Shakespeare's Sonnets_ to try to find some appropriate verses. They would be a good start.

 **Thank you for the reviews! Please keep them coming, and make sure they're** _ **honest,**_ **whether they are good, bad, or a little of both.**

 **Bloomandgrow: First of all, I** _ **really**_ **don't mind if you want to discuss extra history in your reviews. :) And for the record, I agree with you about the purpose of WWI, as I generally refer to it as "a war over nothing." (And I love the story of 1914 Christmas.) But I try to keep that out of the story as most of my characters, especially at this point, believed the war was justified.**

 **As for Mrs. Bishop, I definitely use her as a "problem character." But her threat was based on a request from the government all of these ladies would have heard on the radio or seen on posters. The request was to report** _ **anyone**_ **who "spreads pessimistic stories, seeks confidential military information, cries for peace, or belittles the effort to win the war." It's true that it's against the right of freedom of speech, but unfortunately the US government has a habit of limiting that right during war, and WWI was no exception.**

 **Glad you liked Esme's gift to Carlisle and Edward's first words.**

 **Kiwihipp: Yes, it was a difficult Christmas, but there's always good things about it, too, if we look for them. Fortunately Edward was able to help Esme see hers. And the engagement was a nice moment at the base, too.**


	11. Women and the War

Women and the War

 **Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Twilight.**_

Esme had been busy the last couple of weeks. She had attended the "Liberty Sings" performed by the choir of Rev. Cullens's church with Edward, just as she'd promised she would. She was also trying to prepare for Edward's first birthday celebration. Today, she was attending another American Red Cross meeting, where she and ten other ladies worked on more wool socks.

"You should see the bouquet of roses my Randall wired me for Valentine's Day," Mrs. Bishop bragged. "Over a dozen of them! And they're so beautiful. He must have told the florist shop that he wanted the _best_ , you know."

Esme was so surprised to hear this that she lost several stitches on her sock. Valentine's Day? Carlisle hadn't given her anything for that day. He hadn't wired her a gift at the flower shop or the jewelry store. He hadn't mailed any poems that reminded him of Esme. She didn't even receive a small note to mark the occasion. Esme hadn't been jealous of Mrs. Bishop in a long time; not since she and Carlisle had begun courting. But it disappointed her that Mrs. Bishop received such a nice gift for Valentine's Day while Esme received nothing. Carlisle normally such a thoughtful man and a careful planner. He'd never forgotten a Valentine's Day since they'd become serious. Even in 1916, when Esme had been ignoring him, as she blamed him for Thomas's death, Carlisle had still left her note for that day.

Esme sighed and re – stitched the ones she'd lost, her wooden needles clicking together as she continued. She shouldn't hold it against her husband. After all, he was extremely busy taking care of the soldiers in Europe. It wasn't as if he'd stopped loving her or anything. Still, Esme's heart still hurt, especially as she listened to some the other women.

"I received a rose for Valentine's Day," said one of the other women about Esme's age. "It wasn't a whole bouquet, but I thought it was nice that Sam sent it to me."

"Finny wrote me a poem," said another woman. "Of course he was never that talented at poetry, so I don't know whether to be grateful or not," she laughed as she began sewing the toe together to finish the sock.

"I have to admit I was rather surprised about the roses," Mrs. Bishop commented a few minutes later, this time sounding a little less proud. "Randall is a good man, but he doesn't usually pay attention to things like Valentine's Day."

Mrs. Smith smiled. "My husband doesn't either, Amanda. Don't worry. It's just what happens when you've been married for several years. Still, it's nice that you received something this year. Perhaps 'absence makes the heart grow fonder,' huh?" She paused and glanced at some of her pupil's knitting before nodding and returning to the socks she was creating.

Esme beamed in pride that she was doing well on her socks now.

Mrs. Bishop nodded. "Definitely," she agreed wholeheartedly. "You know, just between us, I kind of hope the war doesn't end for a _long_ time. It's too bad so many men have to die, don't get me wrong, but the reasons for the war are important. And my life is so much easier without my husband around all the time."

Everyone in the room stared at her for a second, not sure how to handle her comments. Eventually, the women began knitting again, but all anyone could hear was the clicking of needles and the ticking of the clock. In the next room, they could also hear the laughter of their children.

Esme suddenly didn't feel so jealous of Mrs. Bishop. Did it really matter that she'd received over a dozen roses for Valentine's Day if the woman's marriage was such a state? Esme knew she was lucky to have Carlisle's love, but she'd never really paused to consider _how_ lucky. It never occurred to her that some women may find it easier to be without their husband, a man they were supposed to love above all else, and he love his wife above all else.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Esme desperately wished that her husband would be home for Edward's first birthday, but it was not to be. Still, she planned a party for their son and hoped to tell Carlisle what happened. Esme baked a chocolate cake and even decorated it so the frosting said, "Happy Birthday." She also invited her parents as well as Amy and Nathan, and Camille, Linda, and Timmy. Then there were a few of the women in the American Red Cross who had children that Edward played with. And even Carlisle's father was invited. All of them came to her house for her son's birthday. Esme tried to make it a happy day, although once again, there were several people missing.

All of the guests squeezed into the dining room table, which wasn't meant to seat over ten people, but they managed. There, they all sang the "Happy Birthday" song that had become popular in recent years, which delighted Edward. He clapped his hand and tried to babble along. "Ba – ba – ba – ba," he sang.

"Biffdee!" echoed Freddie, one of the boys Edward played with from the Red Cross group.

Then Rev. Cullen announced he would say a prayer before Esme served the cake. _"Lord we thank thee for Edward turning one year old and for all the people here to celebrate this day. We ask that Edward live many more years to serve You._

 _We also remember those that are missing because of the war. Please take care of them and guide them to win the fights in your name. In Jesus's name, Amen."_

" _Amen,"_ the rest of the group agreed, not knowing what else to say. Esme had a feeling most weren't used to praying at a birthday party. She certainly wasn't. Her family also had a habit of not mentioning those that were missing when they gathered. At least not right away. Sometimes discussing their absence made the pain even more acute. But Esme's father – in – law had never cared about causing others to become uncomfortable. The room was completely silent as Esme cut and served the cake, except for the sound of the knife scraping against the pan and the plates hitting the table.

Still, when Esme put a piece of cake in front of Edward, he giggled and placed his fist right in the middle of the cake. The silence was finally broken as the guests chuckled, watching Edward cover himself in chocolate cake and yellow icing.

"Biffdee ceeke!" Freddie commented, pointed at the cake.

"Don't worry, Freddie," his mother promised. "You can have a piece of cake, too. A _small_ piece, that is."

When Esme finally finished serving all the cake, she even had enough time left to have a small piece herself. She placed a piece with part of the "B" from "Birthday" on her plate. Esme had to admit she was quite proud how well her cake came out. The cake tasted moist and chocolaty and the yellow frosting added the right sweetness.

It wasn't long before it was time to clean up, however. Esme provided wash cloths to everyone. It took several minutes to wash Edward, as he had chocolate cake all over his hands, frosting all over his fingers, and a mix of cake and frosting all over his face. Still, Esme finally managed. Then, of course it was her responsibility to was all the dishes as the hostess of the party. Fortunately Mother and Camille volunteered to help as well.

"It's too bad Carlisle was unable to be here for Edward's first birthday," Mother commented sadly.

Esme nodded. "Yes. But he should be hear for his other birthdays," she commented firmly, reminding herself to stay positive. With that, she handed a plate to her mother to rinse.

"Do you think Junior and Alan will return by _my_ birthday?" Camille asked, as she began drying the plate. "I'll be eighteen this fall."

"I hope so," Mother sighed. "I hope so.

Esme nodded. She hoped so as well.

"But in the meantime, they need our support," Mother added. "Don't forget to write to them."

Esme nodded as she stared at the plate she was washing. She wrote to Carlisle regularly but it had been a while since she'd written to her brothers. She should do something about that.

When the three women eventually finished the dishes, they all gathered into the sitting room for Edward to open his presents. Edward, Freddie, and another little boy who was about eleven months old called Jon sat on the floor. Timmy and Linda sat there as well, trying to keep Freddie and Jon away from Edward's presents. Esme sat in her rocker. Camille and several of the Red Cross ladies sat on the sofa. Amy sat on another chair in the corner of the room with Nathan on her lap. Mother and Father stood in the background, taking everything in, as Esme knew they had always done when they hosted parties themselves. And Rev. Cullen stood right in the center of the room, ready to start giving orders as soon as he felt it was necessary.

"Go ahead, Edward," Esme told her son gently. "Open your presents."

"Yes, you may do so, Edward," Rev. Cullen agreed, as if his approval meant more than Esme's. Linda handed the baby a gift and carefully helped him open it. Esme smiled at how nurturing her youngest sister was becoming. It was probably because she lived so close to Nathan.

Edward received a new quilt from Mother and Camille; a _Wonder Book of Bible Stories_ book from Rev. Cullen, which Esme realized was a Bible with pictures for children to enjoy; a couple of new shirts, and new set of wooden blocks. Esme had bought Edward a toy train herself, remembering how much Timmy had enjoyed playing with his train when he was Edward's age.

However, Edward seemed to prefer to play with the wrapping paper, which he giggled as he threw it in the air and placed it over his head. Esme thought it was one of the most endearing images she'd ever seen, and most of the guests agreed. Even Rev. Cullen smiled at the sight.

OOOOOOOOOO

Esme had just finished hanging up the laundry while Edward played in with his new train in the sitting room. After pausing to see her son was still fine, she decided to retrieve the mail. She smiled as she noticed the name "Cullen" painted a little crookedly on the side of it. Esme loved that her brothers had made her this mail box right after her engagement to Carlisle. But it was particularly special because of how important the mail was at this point in her life. Perhaps there would be a letter from one of her brothers today? After all, she had written one to Junior yesterday. But when Esme opened the mail box, there was something even better. A letter from Carlisle!

Esme immediately picked up the letter along with the rest of the mail and returned to the sitting room, where Edward was pushing his train around the room.

"Look Edward!" Esme exclaimed, holding up the letter. "It's another letter from Daddy."

Edward paused and looked up at his mother. "Da – Da," he replied, pointing at the letter.

"That's right, Edward," Esme agreed as her heart swelled. "Daddy wrote this." With that, she sat down in her rocker to read.

 _February 12, 1918_

" _Dear Esme,_

 _I have just realized that Valentine's Day is only two days away, and this letter will never reach you in time. Even the telegraph lines wouldn't reach Columbus that quickly. I'm sorry, as I know that's an important day to show my love for you. Please trust me when I say my love for you is just as strong as ever this year. However, so much injuries, illnesses, and death around me is tiring. I am afraid it is difficult to notice dates. They all seem to blend together. I was warned about that fact from some of the other soldiers when I first arrived, but I'm afraid I didn't listen. I thought someone like me who always notices details would be able to handle remembering important dates. Apparently I was wrong. I must ask the Lord for forgiveness in being so arrogant and you in thinking Valentine's Day isn't important to me anymore._

 _I've selected a couple of Shakespeare's Sonnets that remind me of you as Valentine's Day presents. I'm sorry you are receiving them a couple of weeks late._

Let those who are in favour with their stars  
Of public honour and proud titles boast,  
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars  
Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most.  
Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread  
But as the marigold at the sun's eye,  
And in themselves their pride lies buried,  
For at a frown they in their glory die.  
The painful warrior famoused for fight,  
After a thousand victories once foiled,  
Is from the book of honour razed quite,  
And all the rest forgot for which he toiled:  
Then happy I, that love and am beloved,  
Where I may not remove nor be removed*

 _Some men think they are blessed because they have some sort of recognition because of who they are or the work that they do. They think are blessed because they are Captains, or Colonel's, or even Generals. I'm happy to be a lieutenant and help other young doctors. But Esme, I think I am far more blessed to have your love and be married to you. I know you'll always love me no matter what. Whereas any recognition or title like that can be retracted for various reasons. My love for you will never change._

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,  
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;  
But then begins a journey in my head  
To work my mind, when body's work's expired:  
For then my thoughts-from far where I abide-  
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,  
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,  
Looking on darkness which the blind do see:  
Save that my soul's imaginary sight  
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,  
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,  
Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.  
Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,  
For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.**

 _As I've told you, the work I do here is particularly tiring, but I never fail to think of you at night, Esme. And your letters are like a light in the darkness. They are what keep me believing in myself, so I thank you for all your notes, whether they are long or short. Never forget that much of the good I do here is because of you._

 _I also know Edward's first birthday is coming soon. I wish I could be home to see how big he is becoming now, especially considering you say he's beginning to talk. I had hoped the Germans would be defeated by now, so I could be home to see Edward turn one year old. But since I can't, I hope the reading I've enclosed will help._

Esme paused as she realized there was something else inside the envelope besides this letter. She reached inside and pulled out another piece of folded paper. When she unfolded it, it was a beautiful scripture reading that Carlisle had written in large, fancy calligraphy. Much fancier than the script he used to write his letters. It said, "'Whoever humbles himself like a child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever receives one child in my name receives me.' *** - Jesus." Esme smiled as she realized that Carlisle had chosen a verse from a book that was extremely important to him that reminded him how important children were. Especially his child. It was too bad this had arrived after Edward's birthday as well, although Esme had a feeling their son wouldn't care.

She held up the paper for their son to see. "See Edward? Daddy made this for you!"

"Da – da," Edward babbled again, pointing to the paper she was holding up.

Esme's heart swelled. She loved it that Edward was beginning to recognize Carlisle in some way. "That's right. Daddy." Then she read the scripture message out loud to him as well. "Isn't that wonderful, Edward?"

Edward smiled at his mother, obviously not really understanding, but liking the attention. "Ma – ma, Da – da," he commented. Then he returned to playing with his train.

Esme continued reading out loud,

" _I hope you might put that in Edward's room so he will learn how important he is to us and to God as he gets older. And also remember the humbleness of children is what God asks for. I wish I could draw a picture for him to go with it, but I'm not an artist like you are, Esme. I hope my calligraphy will do._

"I will Carlisle," Esme whispered to herself, caressing the letters Carlisle had carefully chosen and wrote beautifully. "I'll put it in his room. I'll even buy a frame for it so it will last as long as you obviously want it to."

 _I hope I will be home soon, but there seems to be no end in sight to this war. I will say I appreciated you sending me a copy of President Wilson's Fourteen Points message. It reminds me that we are truly here to make a difference and stop fighting and tyranny. Someday, this war will end, and we won't have to worry about fighting or our families' safety at all. In the meantime, I will treat and attempt to heal all the soldiers I can._

 _Please keep sending me letters. As I told you before, they are my light in the darkness. And tell Edward I love him._

 _Love always,_

 _Carlisle._

Esme finally stopped reading. It was nice of Carlisle to assure her how much he appreciated her letters. She liked being his "light in the darkness." Esme also loved that he'd sent her some poems for Valentine's Day after all, even if they were a few weeks late. She should have known better to think he'd forget completely. And it was wonderful of him to continue to think of Edward as well. Esme leaned over and kissed the top of Edward's head. "Daddy loves you. He loves you so much. Look at that wonderful birthday present he made for you."

Edward grinned again and pointed at the paper. "Da – da." Then he touched his mother's face with his little hand. "Ma – ma."

Esme smiled and kissed Edward's little hand in return. "That's right, Edward. You're getting so smart!"

XXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOO

Carlisle treated gunshot wounds, chlorine gas victims, influenza patients, and frostbite throughout the month of February. He tried to save as many as he could through medicine and prayer, but he still lost way too many men. Sometimes it would be several _days_ before he could save even a single patient. Carlisle did his best to stay positive and remember God, President Wilson's plan for when the war ended, and all the patients he had saved, but it was difficult.

One afternoon at the end of February, Carlisle began treating a gunshot wound through the shoulder. Someone had bandaged the shoulder before the man had arrived at the hospital, so Carlisle didn't need to worry about this man bleeding to death. It looked as if his might be soldier he could save, although the fact that the man was already unconscious was troubling. Still, if Carlisle retrieve the bullet and cleaned the wound quickly, perhaps the man would be fine. As long as the gangrene would didn't set in, that is. A shoulder wasn't easily amputated, after all, and the make – shift bandage on the man was only part of another man's dirty uniform. Perhaps the only way to treat a shoulder wound with gangrene was those old maggots.

Carlisle quickly washed his hands with lye soap before he opened the man's shirt to see the wound better. He noticed the soldier's chest was bandaged rather oddly as he did so. Perhaps the man had an old injury or illness in his chest. Carlisle decided he would look at the chest after he took care of the bullet wound, as it was more important. The man was lucky, as the bullet was easily retrieved. Then Carlisle carefully washed the wound and bandaged it with a clean gauze bandage. Still, Carlisle would have to watch this wound carefully for signs of disease.

With that finished, he moved onto examining the bandages on the chest. Carlisle also took the time to look at the identification tags and realized the soldier's name was Calvin Petrov. He appeared young, as most of the soldiers were. Probably about twenty years old, and he had hair that was even blonder than Carlisle's was. But as he finally removed the last of the bandages, Carlisle received a huge shock. The soldier's chest wasn't bandaged to protect from an old injury or illness. It was too hide the soldier's…feminine parts.

Calvin…was…a… _she._

Carlisle gasped and stared at the young lady, who was still unconscious at present, not able to believe his eyes. Although there were many women at the army base, either working as nurses, ambulance drivers, or even journalists, Carlisle didn't think women fighting in the trenches was a good idea. He tried to picture his sweet, loving Esme shooting at other humans and watching bullets hit people all around you, and he couldn't. Honestly, Carlisle knew he couldn't handle fighting in the trenches _himself_ , so how could a woman do it? And yet, by the soldier's blue private uniform and gunshot wound in the shoulder, it was obvious that was exactly what this young woman had done.

Still Carlisle carefully checked to see if his shock had caught anyone else's attention in the base hospital. He may disagree with the woman's decision, but he wasn't about to call attention to her until he spoke to her and tried to understand her more. Even though what she was doing _was_ illegal, Carlisle didn't think it would hurt to talk to her first.

Fortunately, all the rest of the nurses and doctors were so busy with their own patients, they hadn't even looked up at Carlisle's rare gasp. Even the younger doctors, who still sometimes asked Carlisle questions or paused to watch him treat a patient, were buys with their own patients. Some waved hot water in front of a soldier's nose, trying to treat the chlorine gas before the person choked to death. Others tried to reach for bullets, just as Carlisle had just done. Still others tried to bring fevers down by giving the patients aspirin and demanding wash cloths from nurses. Carlisle nodded for a second, pleased that the younger doctors were doing so well, before he returned to his current patient.

He placed his stethoscope on the woman's chest and carefully listened to the slow heartbeat. If she didn't wake up, he supposed it didn't matter whether people knew that "Calvin" was a woman, but Carlisle wasn't ready to give up yet. "Come on," he whispered. "I'm sure you have a lot of things left to do after this war is over. Get married. Have children. But you need to wake up first." He looked heavenward and whispered, _don't let her die, God._

And suddenly, as if God and the woman had heard Carlisle and responded right away, the woman's heart began beating a little faster. Bump…..bump, bump…..bump, bump…bump, bump…bump, bump…bump, bump, bump, bump. And as the woman's heartbeat finally beat at a normal speed, she began stirring. She moaned in pain for several more minutes, and although Carlisle hated to hear people in pain, those sounds were music to his ears at this moment. They meant the young woman was waking up. She would live, at least for today. Still, Carlisle prepared some morphine for her to manage her pain.

As soon as the woman opened her eyes and saw Carlisle preparing the morphine, however, she used healthy side to knock the drug out of his hands. "No!" she said extremely strongly for a woman who had just regained consciousness. "I'm not weak. I can do this just as well as any man."

Carlisle looked at her, confused. "I'm sorry but you need pain management to recover from your injury," he told her his calm, doctor's voice.

"Because you discovered I'm a woman you mean," the young woman snapped back, looking down at her exposed chest. "Speaking of that, you'd better not told anyone about that if you know what's good for you,' she looked at Carlisle in a threatening manner that kind of reminded him of Father.

Carlisle sighed. "No, _all_ people with injuries like yours need pain management," he told her gently but firmly. The woman looked back at him skeptically. "And I made sure no one noticed your…situation before I talked to you. Now, I need you to calm down. You've been shot and you've just recovered consciousness. _No one_ should overexert themselves like this." Then he gathered another dose of morphine. "Now I must insist you take the medicine."

The woman sighed and toke it, grimacing as she did so. Carlisle wasn't sure if that was because of the pain or if it was because she still didn't want to take the morphine, but at least she did so. "I suppose you think I'm ridiculous. Disguising myself as a man and all that, just so I can fight the Germans."

Carlisle smiled. "I won't say _ridiculous_ , but I can't say I understand it. I'd appreciate it if you tried to explain…'Calvin.'"

She nodded. "I appreciate you using my false name, but my real name is Kate. Last year, when the United States entered the war, my little brother, Vasilii, joined up. The German dogs," she spat the name, "killed him last fall. I just had to give him some kind of justice. I had to kill as many of those dogs as I could. This seemed like the way to do that."

Carlisle nodded. "Your desire to give your brother justice is understandable, but do you realize there are other ways to do that are more suitable for a woman?"

Kate shook her head. "Yes. I've heard it all before. "'Be a nurse, Kate. That will help the soldiers win the war. Or even drive an ambulance.' It just isn't the same as _fighting._ I have to fight. No matter how many men like you think it's unsuitable. And remember what I said about telling anyone," she added giving him the same threatening look she had earlier.

Carlisle sighed and shook his head. "I still would rather see you assist the war in a different way, but I promise. I won't tell. I think this falls under "doctor – patient confidentiality."

Kate nodded gratefully. Suddenly she heaved. Carlisle, having far more experience with the side effects of morphine than he did when he gave it to Esme, automatically grabbed a bucket he prepared for this purpose. And Kate vomited directly into the bucket.

After she was finished, Carlisle re – bandaged her chest, as he had promised to keep her secret, and then called for a nurse to clean up the mess in the bucket.

OOOOOOOOOO

That evening, Carlisle couldn't help but marvel how many different ways women were helping with this war. There were women like Esme, who took care of the children and reminded the men why they were fighting in the first place with their letters. Some also made socks and raised money for the soldiers. As Carlisle understood it, they were also limiting their food supply to help the soldiers. But other women insisted helping by coming to Europe. Carlisle was well aware that nurses and ambulance drivers were extremely valuable. But apparently that wasn't enough for at least one woman. He hoped she survived the war and it didn't become too much for her.

 ***Shakespeare's XXV Sonnet.**

 **** Shakespeare's XXVII Sonnet.**

 *****Mt 18: 4 – 5 (St. Joseph ed.)**

 **In case any of you are wondering, I didn't take the idea of Kate dressing up as a man from _Mulan_. The fact is, women have been disguising themselves to do jobs that are considered "men's jobs" through out history, and there was usually some women disguising themselves to fight in combat. I thought Kate was a good canon character for that. :)**

 **Thanks for the review from the last chapter. Please keep them coming. And don't be afraid to tell me what's wrong with the chapter as well as what you like.**

 **Bloomandgrow: Glad you like the mention of Wilson's Fourteen Points. :) Certainly important to mention for this war.**

 **And yes, Cindy is trying to find a way to keep living. And she always did like teaching.**

 **Glad you liked Edward learning to speak.**

 **Alan may sound "unpatriotic", but I agree with you, I sympathize with him not wanting to go to war. Still there were plenty of men who were forced to join the military because of the draft.**

 **According to my research, there's a divided opinion on where the 1918 influenza came from. Some people think it came from Asia and was spread by the rats in the trenches (kind of like the bubonic plague). While others think it was a mutation from a virus in the US, and spread to Europe because we were sending so many people there because of the war. But either way, I figure Carlisle would be dealing with flu cases in the winter, simply because it's flu season. He'll find out soon enough that the "season" will last longer and be a lot worse this year. ;(**

 **I'm going to warn you that it will be a while before I update this again. Lent is coming up, and I'll be limiting fanfiction during that season again.**


	12. Spring

Spring

 **Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Twilight.**_

The weather was finally becoming warm again in Columbus. All the snow had been gone for a while, and Esme was starting to wear her thinner outfits and lighter coat again. Soon, the grass would turn green and flowers would bloom. Father was also preparing for planting, which was unfortunately going to take a lot more work this year. After all, most of the men they usually hired to help were in Europe now, including both of Esme's older brothers. Yet because of the war, there were a lot of soldiers who needed their corn. Esme prepared to assist her parents in any way she could.

Just before the planting season began, Esme celebrated her twenty – third birthday, however. Cindy came over, offering a new cranberry tea as a gift. The two friends enjoyed sipping the hot tea in the sitting room while Edward napped. "This is really a wonderful flavor," Esme complimented Cindy as she took a sip. "The cranberry isn't too strong, but there's just enough to give the tea a bit of a bite. And with the right amount of sugar, it's perfect." She took another sip and lit delicious liquid fill her mouth again.

Cindy laughed a little at the comment about sugar, knowing that she and Esme disagreed how much sugar was "right" for tea. Esme preferred two spoon fills, while Cindy liked only a small teaspoon. But then she looked back at Esme with a more serious look on her face. "I'm glad you like it. I'm sorry I'm not able to see you as often as I used to, Esme," the other woman sighed, making reference to all the afternoons they used to spend like this when they were both first married. Cindy and Esme used to visit each other socially at least every two weeks back then. "But I need to focus on my students right now. Still, I wanted to come for your birthday." She took a sip of the tea as well.

Esme nodded. "I understand. We both have busy lives right now. Edward keeps me quite busy, and I will have to spend most of my time at my parents' home in the next few weeks because of the planting."

Cindy nodded knowingly. "Yes, since Edward is one year old now, I would assume he does keep you busy. I remember that age from my siblings."

Of course, Cindy was a farm girl who had grown up helping her mother take care of her younger siblings, just like Esme had. Sometimes Esme forgot that, because Cindy was so good at playing a city teacher's wife, and now being a teacher herself. Esme put her tea cup down for a moment to brush a stray hair that was falling in front of her face, not caring that the hair wasn't pinned with the rest. It was nice that she and Cindy didn't need look so perfect all the time when it was just the two of them. They were both former farm girls, so what did it matter if they had to remove hair from their face or wipe off a tea stain? The cups they used weren't even the fancy china most professional wives' used.

"Definitely," Esme continued, her mind returning to discussing Edward. "Do you know he's been walking around, holding on to furniture lately?"

"That's wonderful," Cindy smiled taking another sip of tea again.

Esme noticed Cindy seemed to not have any problems with discussing Edward, even though she may never have a child herself now. Perhaps she was handling her grief better than Esme had thought. Certainly better than Esme had done when she'd lost Thomas. Could Esme even mention Carlisle to Cindy? "Carlisle mailed me this nice new brooch for my birthday," Esme commented, showing her friend the new pin that on her pale blue blouse. It was a plain gold pin that was shaped in a squiggly line. Carlisle thought she would like it because it reminded him of abstract art. Esme loved it because of that and because Carlisle had chosen it especially for her.

Cindy nodded with a tight smile. "It's a wonderful piece." Then she quickly changed the subject. "My students are studying _Macbeth_ right now. They enjoy the witches, and the death scene, but I struggle to have them interested in the rest. I've had several students play different parts but, I'm not sure what else to do."

Esme nodded, realizing she'd spoken about Carlisle too soon. "I'm sure you will do fine, Cindy. You are a great teacher."

Cindy shook her head. "'Great' isn't enough, Esme. I have to be the best. It's the only way…" She stopped suddenly and took several gulps of tea in a row. In fact she drank so fast that a drop of tea accidently landed on her grey blouse.

"Only way, what?" Esme prompted, gently, taking a small sip of the tea herself. "Are you worried about being fired or something?" She couldn't imagine why the school department would want to fire her friend. Everyone had always said what a good instructor she was, and didn't Cindy say Kevin had recommended her for the job before he left?

"No," Cindy shook her head. "It's not that. Not really. I just…" she swallowed the last bit of tea in her cup. "I just need to leave soon. I have papers to grade, you realize. And I'm sure Edward will be up, demanding your attention soon."

After Cindy left the house, Esme washed out the cups, still wondering what Cindy's problem was. Whatever it was, her friend was obviously not ready to talk to Esme about it. Esme would have to wait until later to understand. Briefly, she wondered if it had anything to do with Kevin's death, but she couldn't figure how they were related.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

About a month after Esme celebrated her birthday, she and her family were hard at work planting their corn. The planting season was more difficult this year, considering all the corn they needed to grow, yet they didn't have Junior or Alan's help. Father worked from before sunrise until after dark. Timmy was also eager to help when he wasn't in school, fortunately. But without the boys from the surrounding areas available to hire as day laborers, Esme's family also enlisted Amy, Camille, and Linda's help in the fields. Even Esme's mother occasionally worked there as well. Esme also drove out to the farm with Edward nearly every day to assist. A couple of other local girls were also hired. The women took turns with childcare, cooking, and other domestic work and providing assistance in the fields.

Father planned on buying some of the new farm equipment this fall so the work would not be so overwhelming, but for now, the Platts dealt with it the best they could. Esme was tired. More tired than she'd been in a while, as she worked the fields, cooked and cleaned for six to eight people, and still looked after Edward. In some ways, the work was good, as it was more difficult to miss Carlisle and her brothers when she was busy. But Esme wished she had more time for her art, and writing letters as well.

Tonight, after Esme arrived home and put Edward in his bed, she decided she really needed to write to Carlisle. She never wanted him to think he wasn't important enough to communicate with him. So she pulled out a pen and some stationary and began writing with a yawn.

 _April 11, 1918_

 _Dear Carlisle,_

 _Thank you so much for the lovely brooch you sent me for my birthday. I wear it whenever I can, although that hasn't been possible lately except on Sundays for church. We are in the middle of the planting season here, and with so many men off to war, including both my brothers, my parents need all the help they can receive. Edward and I spend most of our days at the farmhouse. I take my turn cooking for everyone, watching the babies, cleaning, and doing farm work. It is exhausting, so I very little time to do my artwork, or unfortunately, write many letters, which is why you have not received any from me lately. Still, I couldn't wait any longer tonight, despite the fact that I am still tired. Still, I enjoy knowing that the crops my family plants may feed you, Junior, and Alan at some point, and I am sure the rest of my family feels the same way._

Esme paused and rubbed her eyes with her hand that hadn't touched the ink, yawing as she did so.

 _We have been given an extra hour of daylight to work, though, on Mr. Hoover's recommendation. He suggested all states pass something called "Daylight Savings Time," so people like my parents will have more time to plant all the crops they need for the soldiers. Ohio has passed the recommendation without much trouble. It helps to have more time to work in the evening, I will admit, although it makes climbing out of bed in the morning a bit tougher._

 _Mr. Hoover also suggested we women grow "victory gardens," so that we will have our own vegetables and the farmers can use their vegetables to feed you men in uniform. I think it's a good idea,_ _elthooough_ _although with the little_ _speeeceee_ _space we have, I'd have to_ _grouw_ _grow my victory garden indoors in pots. I do hope Edward doesn't get into them the way Samuel Bishop_ _onccce_ _once got his mother's flowerpots!_

Esme shook head, realizing she was more tired than she though if she kept misspelling so many words.

She quickly finished the letter.

 _I love you Carlisle, and I hope you will come home soon, although from what I can tell from the newspaper, the war will continue for a while. In the meantime, I appreciate every letter you give me._

 _Esme._

She finally placed the letter in an envelope, struggling to keep her eyes open. Esme decided she'd address it tomorrow. For now she needed sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOO

At the end of April, Carlisle woke up to an unnaturally bright spring day and quickly dressed himself properly. He hoped the weather was a sign from God that good things would happen today. After all, Carlisle had received a blessing the night before: a letter from Esme. He was happy to hear she had liked the brooch he'd sent her for her birthday, and it was sweet of Esme to make sure she wrote to him even though she was so busy with the family's planting season. Letters from his wife always reminded him why he was here, as much as he disliked seeing so much death. He was trying to protect his family, and help all Americans, and even the rest of the world because of President Wilson's wonderful Fourteen Points.

Carlisle hoped God with bless him by seeing his friend Liam, today as well. After all, it was time for a new group of soldiers to be sent to the trenches and the Liam's squadron should have returned. Perhaps he would even see Liam in the mess hall for breakfast. After all, Carlisle didn't see Liam's body rolled in on a stretcher yesterday. Was it possible that Liam was one of the few men to return without injuries this time? _Please God, protect my friend Liam for me and more importantly for Siobhan,_ Carlisle prayed for what seemed like the millionth time. _Let me see him today._ Carlisle smiled softly at the bright sun again and reminded himself that anything could happen, especially on a day when God sent sunshine instead of more rain. With that, he entered the noisy mess hall.

After Carlisle had received his breakfast, he sat down and began munching on toast with butter, eggs, and flapjacks. He did his best to ignore all the yelling, grunting, and back slapping from the other men, reminding himself that these men were still excited to be away from the trenches again. Liam was nowhere to be seen but perhaps he had decided to spend some private time with Siobhan. When Carlisle finally saw Esme again, he certainly would be anxious for that. But as Carlisle finished his crunchy toast and wiped his mouth, Siobhan suddenly appeared next to him. "Carlisle?" she asked nervously. "Did you see Liam yesterday? With some kind of wound or something, maybe?"

Carlisle shook his head. "No, I didn't. I hoped that meant he was one of the lucky ones that returned without wounds or illnesses. I thought maybe he was with you this morning."

Siobhan shook her head, "No, I haven't seen him at all. Last night I was so excited to see him. I even put on a nice dress, just for the occasion, figuring he didn't need to see me in _this_." She fingered her white nurse's uniform. "But now…I don't really care how I look as long as I can see him again! I looked at all the patient's beds yesterday, scared that one of them might be him. But now, Dr. Cullen, if only one of them was him! Then I could nurse him again, just like last time. I thought, well, maybe I'd missed something and you had seen him but if you haven't…" She paused and blinked a few times.

Carlisle shook his head, hating to see Siobhan lose hope and not wanting to admit his friend had disappeared, either. "That doesn't mean anything. Maybe we _both_ missed something. Come and eat some breakfast, and then we'll look at _all_ the patients in the hospital."

Siobhan seemed to grasp on the hope like a lifeline. "Thank you, Dr. Cullen. With that, she went to retrieve her breakfast.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Carlisle and Siobhan spent the next hour carefully checking every patient in the hospital. There were men with field gun wounds. There were men suffering from chorine gas poisoning. There were also still several men with influenza. Carlisle had hoped by springtime, the flu season would be over, like it always had been at home. But since these men lived in the trenches which were still cold at night and flooded easily, especially with all this spring rain, he supposed that was an unrealistic wish. Still, neither Carlisle nor Siobhan saw Liam in any of these patients. When Siobhan was busy, Carlisle even found the record of the men who had already died yesterday. To his immense relief, Liam's name wasn't there.

When they both finished, they stepped into a store closet to discuss what they'd found. "I'm sorry we didn't see him, Siobhan, but I'm sure he will arrive sometime today," he tried his best to reassure her and himself. "But now, I suggest you return to work, nurse. There are other patients that need your help." He gestured to the large hospital room that was filled with hundreds of sick and injured soldiers.

Siobhan nodded, brushing a strand of her red hair behind her ear. "You are correct, Dr. Cullen. I know I have to take care of the other patients. But… _why_ didn't Liam come back yesterday? Whether he was injured or not, he still should have returned, right?"

Carlisle nodded. "Yes, but unfortunately some soldiers disappear, for whatever reason," he reminded her as gently as possible.

Siobhan's eyes burned with the same fire as her hair. "My Liam would _never_ be a deserter! You should know better than to suggest such a thing, _Dr. Cullen._ He cares too much about the other men he's serving with, and America…and me."

Carlisle nodded. Siobhan was right, Liam had a strong sense of honor and a deep desire to be with his fiancée permanently. It was just that war was much tougher on soldiers than anyone realized. Even Carlisle had briefly thought of disappearing from the war to leave all of this death. He could only imagine how much more difficult it was for men like Liam, who had to fight on the front lines. But out loud, he replied, "Of course. I should not have thought of such a thing, even for a moment. Liam will return today, Siobhan. We need to believe that. And for now, we have patients to see." He looked at all the patients in the next room again.

Siobhan took a deep breath, obviously trying to appear calmer than she really was. "Yes. Of course." But then she paused and turned back to Carlisle again. "No! I _must_ know what happened to Liam as soon as possible! I need you to go into the trenches and look for him, Carlisle," she said firmly.

The small closet they were in made Siobhan's voice sound louder than it really was, and Carlisle's ears rung. He took a careful step back, nearly knocking over a pile of reports. "I can understand why you would want to know what happened to Liam soon," he began carefully. "But I'm not exactly trained to handle the trenches. And I have patients who need my help here." Carlisle looked at the room full of patients again, feeling guilty for taking so much time away from work.

But Siobhan shook her head again. "I know you aren't trained for the trenches, but you don't have to look in the ones that are being used for active combat. Liam wouldn't be there anyway, considering he was supposed to come back to the base yesterday. Just check the ones that have already been abandoned."

Carlisle tried not to show the shock on his face at what Siobhan was asking. She wanted him to look over the old trenches among the _dead bodies_ and see if he could find Liam's body there. "Siobhan, I really don't think that is necessary. Liam will probably return today." Of course he would. Because how could Carlisle face his friend's dead body? One of the first patients he'd successfully treated? And how could Siobhan face her fiancé's dead body? Seeing Thomas's lifeless little body hadn't made Carlisle's grief easier; it had made it more difficult. Why did Siobhan think it would make it easier for her?

Siobhan shook her head. "I really don't think so Carlisle. Most everyone else has already come back, one way or another. I can't have Liam be one of those soldiers that is never found, because people didn't look hard enough. I need _you_ to look for him, because you're someone I trust. Someone I know Liam trusted as well. And you're the best doctor I know here. If you find him and he's still alive, perhaps there's a chance… _Please_ Dr. Cullen. Be Liam's doctor again. I just need to know."

Carlisle sighed, beginning to understand why this was so important to her. Still, he looked at all the other patients in the next room again. They needed him as well. "Just for one day, Carlisle. I'll cover for you so you don't get in trouble with the superior officers. And I'll be the best nurse ever to all of them if I know you're looking for Liam."

Carlisle finally nodded. "All right. I will." With that, they both existed the supply closet. Siobhan immediately began treating an influenza victim. She wiped his face with a cool wash cloth to help bring down his high fever. Carlisle gathered some basic medical supplies in a black doctor's bag and discreetly left the building, his heart pounding louder than it ever had.

As soon as he stepped outside, Carlisle felt the gentle sunshine of springtime smiling at him again. He even saw a few patches of green grass, which lifted his spirits even more. He smiled, thinking once again that the sun maybe a sign God was blessing him today. It certainly would be easier to find Liam on a clear sunny day. He quickened his step as he headed toward the trenches. Siobhan was correct; if he found Liam soon enough, he might be able to still save him.

As Carlisle finally approached the trenches, he heard the gunshots and screams of soldiers from a current battle. He sighed, wishing the violence of the war wasn't so necessary. Hopefully the Americans and the other Allies would defeat the Germans very soon. He quickly turned in the other direction, as Siobhan had instructed him to focus on the trenches that weren't being used anymore.

He walked through some of the now – empty fields, or "no – man's land" as Carlisle had heard many of the combat soldiers call the area. Soon he arrived in what appeared to be a recently used trench, as it seemed freshly dug. Hopefully he could find Liam here. Still, as Carlisle carefully climbed into it, clutching his doctor's bag, he noticed there didn't seem to be any bodies in the trench. Carlisle had expected these old trenches to be filled with dead bodies everywhere. But this one seemed to consist of mud, still damp from yesterday's rain, and a few rats that scurried around. Still, Carlisle decided to have a closer look. The ambulance workers were always in a hurry; they often missed people that weren't easy to see in these trenches.

Carlisle searched for what seemed like miles through the long, narrow trench. He looked behind large boulders and brushed away piles of dirt, hating how unsanitary that was making his hands. Still, if he could find Liam, especially if the man was alive, it would be worth it. He turned several corners before he found a couple of bodies lying right in the curve. They were both covered with dirt and smelled like death. They had obviously been there for a while. Carlisle sighed, hating that his black bag was unnecessary for these soldiers. He briefly checked them for identification, as their families should be notified. Still, at least neither of them were Liam.

Then Carlisle continued walking as another crawled out from under the dead bodies. He wished he could take theses soldier's bodies with him, so they could be buried properly, rather than lying in a trench to decay and rats to eat off of. But since he had no way to transport them, the best he could do was show their identification tags to the officer at the base in charge of keeping track of the dead soldiers.

And then, as Carlisle turned another corner, there was several bodies lying on top of each other. This was exactly what he had been afraid of when he had first stepped into the trench. A pile of dead bodies, lying on top of each other, smelling like dirt and death. Carlisle desperately missed the smells of soap and alcohol of the army hospital. He sighed and began to look through the bodies, terrified that one of them might be Liam this time.

And that's when Carlisle saw him. Lying off to the left side of the other bodies, behind a pile of dirt, was what appeared to be Liam's body. He'd obviously been shot with a machine gun this time, and from the smell of him, he'd probably been dead for a little while. He was still dressed in his blue uniform, but it was covered in dirt and blood. The man's heart had probably stopped beating soon after he was hit. Carlisle's own heart almost stopped as he checked the body's identification. _Please God,_ he prayed. _Don't let this be Liam._ But it was.

Carlisle stared at Liam's body for a few moments. What was he supposed to do now? Could he really return to the base and tell Siobhan he'd found her fiancé dead? She'd claimed that all she wanted was to know what happened to him, but could that really be true? And what about Carlisle himself? How could Liam, one of Carlisle's first success stories here, be dead? How could a man that Carlisle had become friends with be gone? And Liam and Siobhan's relationship had reminded Carlisle so much of his own with Esme. If their relationship was over, what did that say about his with Esme? Everything he'd believed about God blessing him with spring sunshine today was a lie. _"Why God?" Carlisle whispered. "Why did this have to happen? Why did you have to take Liam?"_

As Carlisle continued to ponder why God had allowed this to happen, he suddenly heard a soft moan coming from the bodies to his right. Could one of those soldiers still be alive, after all? Was it even possible or were Carlisle's ears playing tricks on him? He took a closer look at the other bodies, and found the soldier the noise probably came from, as the body still felt warm. He was a dark – haired man who looked slightly older than most of the soldiers. Likely the man was in his mid – twenties instead of his late teens to early twenties. And miraculously enough, the man was still breathing very shallowly. It was probably because his wound on his arm had been crudely bandaged, with what looked like another soldier's uniform.

But as Carlisle took a closer look at the wound, it appeared to be what was killing him now. It smelled like gangrene had already set in. Carlisle needed to find an ambulance driver to take this man to the base hospital as soon as possible. Then just maybe, this trip wouldn't be completely wasted. Nothing would make Liam's death acceptable, of course, but perhaps Carlisle wouldn't feel like such a failed doctor.

Carlisle began dragging the man away from the other bodies, listening carefully for which direction the ambulance might be. As he did so, the man began to moan even more. It was a good sign, that the man was regaining consciousness, but Carlisle still needed to find an ambulance. Dragging the man one the dirt like this wasn't good for his wound or his gangrene.

And then suddenly Carlisle heard the man say something that made him stop short. A German word. Carlisle had studied German in college, since much of the best modern doctors were German. The man was saying the German word for "please" as well as what were probably a few other curse words. Was this soldier actually German? The man was rather dark to be a German soldier, but since he had just spoken German, Carlisle wasn't sure. He _did_ have a grey uniform that Germans were supposed to wear, but many of the American soldiers' uniforms looked grey after they had spent three months in the dirty trenches. Then the man repeated the same German words again. How could this man be in the same trench as Liam? Could he even be the man who had killed Liam? Should Carlisle even bother helping the enemy? After all, helping the enemy would make it easier for the Germans to win, wouldn't it?

Carlisle never thought he would walk away from a wounded person, but he briefly considered doing that now. Carlisle didn't think the Germans were as evil as some of the army men did. He'd never called them "dogs" the way some of the other men in his camp did. But Carlisle knew that the German were responsible for a lot of evil things. Things like sinking _The Lusitania_ and killing Americans with their machine guns. Men like Liam. Did a man like that deserve to be saved?

A moment later, Carlisle's inherent desire to help anyone he could and his responsibility to the Geneva Convention of 1909 began functioning again. Of course he would do his best to save this man. Then he would deliver the man to the prisoners - of - war camp, as was his duty.

As fast as lightening, Carlisle opened his bag and got to work. If he was going to save this man, Carlisle would have to be quick about it, or he would be beyond saving. He took out the alcohol and poured it over his surgical knife and his stitch kit. Carlisle hated to do surgery in a dirty place like this; he even saw rats still scurrying nearby. But it was necessary. As quickly as possible Carlisle, cut off the man's arm and sewed up the wound, while the man moaned and screamed German curse words all the while. Unfortunately, there hadn't been time for pain reliever, either.

"What did you do to me?" the man finally murmured as Carlisle finished.

"I removed, arm," Carlisle replied in broken German. "Take to prison camp," he added explaining where they were headed now.

"Yankee!" the man screamed moving away from Carlisle as if he had been burned. Carlisle supposed he had recognized his American accent. "What did you do to me?" he asked, noticing his arm had been removed.

"I saved you," Carlisle said simply. "Or…will if…find prison hospital" It went against Carlisle nature to speak in that informally, but he'd always been better at reading and listening to German than he was at speaking it.

The German soldier looked at Carlisle murderously. "No prison!" He shouted, wiggling against Carlisle's grip so much he was afraid the German would tear his stitches.

"Yes, prison," Carlisle replied firmly. "You live." Since he'd decided to try to treat this man, Carlisle really wanted him to survive now. After all, he probably had a family waiting for him somewhere.

"No, prison!" the German screamed again, wiggling and making his heart pump much too fast for his condition. If Carlisle couldn't allow this man to calm down, he'd never survive. And it seemed being taken to the prison camp wouldn't allow the man to calm down. Would the German man die even before Carlisle got him there? He couldn't let that happen.

"You and I,…make truce," Carlisle told the man as carefully as he could. "No prison."

The German solider continued to stare at Carlisle with a murderous expression. "Go, Yankee," he replied, although at least he wasn't wiggling away from Carlisle this time.

"You…German base. See family," Carlisle protested gently. "Dr. Cullen," he added, pointing to his chest, hoping if the German man knew Carlisle's name, he might trust him a little more.

The German man finally nodded and pointed the direction to the German base, and then lost consciousness again. Carlisle attempted to get the man as close as possible without being spotted as an American soldier. He also kept an eye on the soldier's wound, so not to make it worse. At least the smell of gangrene was no longer there. He saw several other dead bodies in the trenches that he wished he could help, but Carlisle kept to his current task. In the distance Carlisle could still hear guns going off. The soldier regained consciousness once again, grumbling about trusting a Yankees in his German language.

Finally, they arrived close enough to the German base that an ambulance should be able to pick the man up. There was nothing more Carlisle could do for him. Just before Carlisle left him, the man commented "Ephraim," and pointed to his chest.

Carlisle nodded and left.

As Carlisle snuck back to his own territory, he realized that some people would say he'd just committed treason by not taking Ephraim to the prisoner - of - war camp. The reason why the German was even in the trench was probably because they had invaded the American trench; he seemed to remember someone had said the trenches were often compromised like that. But Carlisle couldn't see it that way. All he knew is even though Liam had died, Carlisle still felt like a doctor because he had managed to save someone else in the trenches today. Someone who might just see his family again. Carlisle couldn't regret that. As he took a deep breath from the fresh spring air and felt the sun on his arms once more, he decided God had blessed him today, after all.

 **I know some of this chapter probably sounds unrealistic, but I** _ **really**_ **wanted to make a reference to Carlisle's truce with Ephraim from canon in this story, and this was the best way I could come up with to do that. I tried to make it as convincing as possible under these circumstances.**

 **Please give me some reviews for this chapter and make sure to keep them honest!**

 **Here's a response from the last one.**

 **Bloomandgrow: It's hard to "see" this from Esme's POV, but the Bishops relationship is supposed to be the type that appears "good" to others, but in reality they've been disconnected from each other for a few years, which is why Mrs. Bishop is talking that way. That scene was designed to show Esme how lucky she is to have a good relationship with Carlisle. Something she knows** _ **very**_ **well in canon, but hasn't really thought about in this universe. (I know you aren't really familiar with canon Twilight, but in that universe, before she married Carlisle, she was married to Charles, a man who abused her.)**

 **Glad you liked the Shakespeare sonnet and the Edward moments.**

 **And one of the nicest things about Carlisle's character (in canon or in this universe) is that he's so understanding of others, even when he doesn't agree with them. (Certainly plays a part in his desire to create truces.)**

 **Glad you appreciate the medical details. They're certainly easier to find in this period than they were when I was writing YLOFA, but sometimes they can still be a challenge. I do my best.**


	13. Walking and Bombs

Walking and Bombs

 **Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Twilight.**_

May had arrived and planting season was winding down. Father and Timmy still worked hard on the farm, as well as Mother, Camille, and Linda. But Esme and Edward had stopped going to the farm every day. Once again, Esme had a chance to paint and draw. When Edward slept, she painted the cornfields that she'd helped plant last month. Those cornfields had been imprinted in her mind lately, just as they had when she was a child and she couldn't wait to leave them. They weren't just important to her family, after all. They were supplying food for all the American military so they could win. Men like Carlisle and her brothers.

To help with the war effort, Esme also followed up on Mr. Hoover's suggestion of a "victory garden," as well. She planted tomatoes, onions, peppers, and carrots. Although her family had their own vegetable garden and often gave her and Carlisle some in the fall, Esme liked knowing she was growing a "victory garden." She was careful to keep it up high where Edward couldn't reach, though. Especially considering her baby had started walking around by holding on to the furniture lately. As proud as Esme was of this accomplishment, it meant she had to place things she didn't want him to destroy quite high. She certainly didn't want her wedding frame broken or for Edward to destroy the plants like Samuel Bishop had once destroyed his mother's beautiful flowerpots.

One morning, Esme finished watering the plants and then prepared to wash the dishes. Edward followed her into the kitchen, crawling eagerly. As Esme prepared the soap and water for the dishes, her son looked at her with an innocent look and asked "Pats?"

Esme sighed. Pats meant pots. Edward had recently discovered the art of banging spoons on her pots and pans. She had to admit, he had a surprisingly good sense of rhythm for a one – year old, a thought that gave Esme quite a bit of pride. Perhaps her son would become a musician when he became older. But for now, the sound of him banging on those pots could also get quite annoying. Esme liked to think of herself as a patient person, but even she could only take so much of that repeated clanging. Still, there was no way Esme could say know when Edward looked at her with that toothy grin and innocent – looking eyes, despite the racket she knew would occur.

"Just for a little while, Edward," Esme told him pulling two clean pots out of the cupboard and a single wooden spoon.

Edward's grin got even wider as he began banging and smashing in contentment. "Pats!" He cried out in delight. Esme began washing the dishes, doing her best to tolerate the noise as it grew more and more exasperating. At least Edward had a short attention span, she thought as he crawled back into the living room after five minutes. If he'd kept up any longer, she have made him put them away. She continued washing the dishes. When Esme was finished she placed the pots back in the cupboard.

Esme paused to look at Edward, who seemed to be content for now, playing with his wooden train. She patted his head, which was now covered with fuzzy red hair, and quietly left the room to take care of the laundry.

Several minutes later, Esme pulled yesterday's blouse out of the dripping wet water and carefully rung it out so it could dry on the clothes rack. As she turned around to put another article of clothing in the water, Edward suddenly appeared in front of her again. "Pats?" he asked once more, using the same expression he had a half hour ago.

But despite the fact that his expression was the same, there was something very different about Edward this time. He wasn't on his hands and knees. He wasn't holding onto a piece of furniture. He was standing up on his own two feet. "Edward," Esme asked slowly, not wanting to scare him and not really sure how to mention this when her son was more concerned about his "pats." "Did you _walk_ into the kitchen to see Mommy?"

Edward began to look quite irritated. "Pats!" he demanded. It was obvious that was the only thing on his mind right now.

Esme sighed. She wanted to ask him to walk again, so she could see it. She wanted to savor this precious milestone. She wanted to exclaim, "My Edward's walking!" to anyone who would listen. But he only wanted his pots and pans again. She supposed he deserved a reward for this, although he didn't seem to care about what had just happened. So Esme pulled the same two pots and wooden spoon out of the cupboard and placed them on the floor, a few feet away from him. Perhaps he would walk again that way.

To Esme's amazement, Edward did indeed take two steps without assistance before he plopped himself on the floor and began banging again. But this time, with every clang and smash, Esme's smile grew bigger. "You're walking, Edward!" Esme kept repeating over and over. Sometimes she said it loudly. Sometimes she whispered it. But she probably said that phrase at least five or six times.

And then suddenly Esme realized the most important person couldn't hear her at all. He wouldn't come home from work to hear about their son's achievement. Carlisle had already missed Edward learning to eat solid food, crawl, celebrate his first birthday, and even say "Ma – Ma" and "Da – Da." Now he'd missed Edward walking as well. When would this war end and Carlisle could see their son again? When would he finally come home? Esme knew the work her husband was doing in Europe was important. After all, soldiers like her brothers were in desperate need of good doctors like Carlisle. And American's _had_ to fight in Europe because of what the Germans had been doing. They had to fight so they could implement President Wilson's Fourteen Points. But sometimes, like now, Esme struggled to accept why Carlisle being oversees was so necessary.

Esme shook her head and reminded herself how much Carlisle needed her support. She'd write to him tonight and tell him what Edward had done.

Clang! Clang! Went the pots, as the loud sound penetrated her thoughts again. Edward laughed in pleasure and he hit them twice as hard to create an even louder sound. "Pats!" he shouted, and Esme chuckled and returned to the laundry.

OOOOOOOOOOO

The next day, Esme had just mailed her letter to Carlisle and put Edward in his crib for a nap. Then she glanced at the day's paper. Then suddenly Esme seized the newspaper for a closer look as she noticed the headline. "NO END TO GERMAN AIR RAIDS IN FRANCE." Nervously, Esme sank into her rocking chair to examine the article more closely. It explained that the Germans had been bombing France so intensely for the last two months, so no one there was safe. Their bombs hit the military bases, including the barracks and the hospitals, as well as the trenches. Sometimes they hit the French civilians as well. Now granted, Esme knew this already. As she had told Carlisle last year, it had been one of her biggest worries when he had decided to become a soldier. She knew that hospitals, and doctors, weren't safe from attacks in this war. But she had hoped that perhaps whatever base Carlisle was located, it might be spared somehow. It certainly helped that Carlisle hadn't mentioned his hospital having been bombed at all. But from the sound of this article, the Germans were now attacking _everywhere and everyone_ with their air raids and bombs. What could Esme do about this?

Esme pulled the newspaper closer to her face as she read it again, looking for answers. It was so close she could smell the printer's ink. But the paper, and the ink, provided no answers to Esme's fear. She shook her head as she pictured one of those bombs hitting her Carlisle. Would he lose his arm or his leg as a result? Would he have burns? Or would he be killed before another doctor could help him? Esme picked up a pen that had been lying on the table nearby and began doodling all over the newspaper as she continued to think.

What about her brothers? Junior wasn't supposed to be fighting right now; as his most recent letter had said, his group had just been "called back" from the trenches. But those German bombs could easily hit Junior in his barracks while he was sleeping. What would happen to her oldest brother if he was hit? Would he be able to teach Edward how to climb a tree, as he had promised he would, or would he lose one of his legs? Would Junior even be able to come home? And what of Alan? Alan had been trained how to protect himself from the land weapons like guns and even the gas weapons. But what about these bombs that were dropped from the air? How could Alan protect himself from that? Would he be burned to death? Alan, who didn't even want to go to war at all?

Esme sighed and finally put the newspaper and the pen down. She carefully went upstairs to retrieve three pieces of paper that she used for letter – writing, pausing to hear if she woke up Edward from his nap as the stairs creaked. Satisfied that Edward made no noises, she returned to the living room and wrote three identical letters to Carlisle, Junior, and Alan.

 _I have just heard about the massive air raids that the Germans have been attacking France. It sounds as if those bombs are everywhere right now. I'm sorry you have had to witness such horror, and I hope they are stopped soon. I am also incredibly worried that they may have hit you. Please write to me that you are all right as soon as you are able to do so. I hope you are able to come home soon. I'll have a box of cookies read for you when you arrive._

The letters were short, but they said what Esme needed to at that moment. She knew that if something did happen to Carlisle, the military would inform her before anyone. And if something happened to Junior or Alan, Esme would certainly hear about it from Mother or Amy faster than they would reply to her letter. But Esme was so scared, she wasn't as patient as she normally was. These letters seemed necessary somehow.

After she finished the letters, she washed her hands, noticing her pen had leaked again. When she finished, Esme heard, "Ma – ma!" coming from upstairs. She smiled as she turned to get Edward out of his crib, wondering how much he would walk today.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOOO

The last few weeks had been very difficult for Carlisle. To begin with, he still didn't understand why Liam had to die. He was friendly with a lot of the young doctors at the hospital, many who were still eager to learn from "Dr. Cullen." But Liam had been Carlisle's _friend._ They often ate meals together when Liam wasn't in the trenches. Liam had even asked Carlisle for help when he'd bought Siobhan an engagement ring. And now suddenly Carlisle's friend was gone.

Many nights when Carlisle tried to sleep, he tried to focus on the image of Esme, and Liam's dead body would appear instead. A part of Carlisle was a little angry at Siobhan for this. After all, if it wasn't for her, he wouldn't have that terrible image in his head. But Carlisle also knew that Siobhan wasn't doing any better than he was at handling her fiancé's death. And how much worse may it have been for her if no one had ever found Liam's body?

Still, Carlisle had a job to do. He had to save as many people as possible from death and permanent injuries. So did Siobhan. And they both did their best to focus on their current patients, rather than their favorite from last fall. Unfortunately, the Germans were causing even more illnesses, injuries, and deaths than ever before lately. Carlisle's commanding officer had told the soldiers to keep the base pitch black at night so the German planes wouldn't find them. Considering their base was so far from Paris, it had worked so far. But in the past few weeks, the planes grew closer and closer, lighting up the sky with their raids. And last week, their base was bombed, hitting their barracks while the men slept.

The bombs put a huge holes in the roof, but more importantly they burned a lot with their spontaneous fires. All the men had to sleep elsewhere while they repaired rooms. Soldiers learned to "double – up" on the beds. Still others went to the hospital after the bomb hit. Carlisle treated several for smoke inhalation this week. He tried to boil hot water for them to help open their airways, but many continued to cough and vomit anyway. Two of the patients being treated had already died.

One of the victims of smoke inhalation was "Calvin," who had healed from her shoulder wound about a month ago. Fortunately for her, no one but Carlisle seemed to notice that Calvin was actually a she yet. But with Calvin back in the hospital again, Carlisle couldn't help but wonder if he'd made a mistake, allowing her to continue being a soldier. Her arm had only healed a short time ago, and Kate was already back, this time because of a bomb. Even though Kate was obviously a very different woman than Esme, every time he saw her, he pictured Esme in her place.

"Calvin," Carlisle said as gently as possible while a nurse disposed of her vomit bucket. "Are you absolutely certain you want to continue fighting this way? This only the beginning of the German air raids, you know." He stared directly into her eyes as he spoke. They were blue, unlike Esme's hazel ones. "They'll probably bomb us again soon. And I hear they bomb the trenches, too. Do you really think you can handle that?"

Calvin shot herself into a sitting person faster than a bomb would start burning. "Of course," she began, and then started coughing violently.

Carlisle quickly signaled Siobhan to retrieve some hot water. "Careful," he warned her as she continued to cough. He waved the cup of hot, steamy water in front of her face. "Take some deep breaths," he told her calmly.

She did so. When she had finally stopped coughing, she explained. "This is _exactly_ why I need to fight, Dr. Cullen. When I think of the way the Germans bombed us while we were _sleeping,_ in makes me twice as angry as I was before. What kind of dirty trick is that? Can't those cowards fight like real men? And I _still_ haven't gotten back at them for killing my brother. I can," she coughed loudly again. Carlisle placed the water in front of her face, and she breathed deeply. " _Handle_ anything those German dogs try, as long as I can fight."

Carlisle nodded, realizing that once again, arguing with her was not helping her recover. "I need to listen to your lungs now," he told her, trying to discretely let her know he must place the stethoscope under her shirt. She nodded, seeming unfazed by this. In fact, she seemed more bothered by him questioning her ability to fight than she did by Carlisle reaching under her shirt to place the instrument. The stethoscope indicated her lungs were recovering, but still had plenty of smoke inside them for now. "You lungs sound better," he told her with a smile as he pulled the stethoscope out, happy that once again, no one seemed to notice anything unusual about the patient.

Calvin nodded. "Good," she commented, her voice indicating that Carlisle should be finished with examining her. It looked like she would be one of the lucky ones to recover from the smoke inhalation.

He just hoped Calvin was correct, and she could handle bombs and battles as well as she claimed she could.

He moved on to the next patient, whose leg had been burned severely during the bombing, turning his parts of his leg black as his tissue had been destroyed. Carlisle had amputated the man's leg, whose tag said his name was Garret, yesterday, much to his protest. At least this time he'd been able to amputate in a clean hospital with the help of pain medication and a nurse. Now Carlisle examined the stitches carefully, making certain it was healing properly. "Your leg looks good, Garret," he told the other man, pleased with the results.

"As good as it _can_ be you mean," Garret grumbled, staring at the empty spot where his foot had once been. "Those German dogs destroyed me!" He turned to "Calvin" who was resting on the next bed. "And I hear you, man, about wanting to fight again, especially after they bombed us. I'd give _anything_ if I could fight again. But the army doesn't take men that are missing limbs. They say I'm 'permanently unable to fight.' So as soon as I'm 'healed' I'll be headed home, like unwanted package. Stupid rules!"

"I hate rules," Calvin agreed, and then heaved again. She grabbed the vomit bucket just in time.

Carlisle continued examining his patients, thinking about Garret and Calvin's comments about the Germans. They certainly weren't the only ones who'd thought that way. Sometimes Carlisle felt like blaming the Germans as well, especially when he thought of what happened to Liam. But these days, when Carlisle thought of "Germans" he didn't usually think of faceless men shooting machine guns or dropping bombs out of their planes. Instead, he thought of Ephraim, suffering from gangrene in his arm. He hoped Ephraim's amputation was healing as well as Garret's was.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"Pinch your nose and keep pinching it until the blood stops," Carlisle instructed another patient near the end of the day. He handed the sandy – haired man a handkerchief that Siobhan had supplied him with. The patient nodded and did so, trying to keep the hospital blanket wrapped around him at the same time.

This was a strange brand of influenza, Carlisle thought to himself as he continued to keep an eye on the man, whose name was Frank Brown. In the first place, it continued to spread long after the flu season was supposed to be over. If anything, the epidemic seemed to be worse than it was over the winter. Over half of the patients here seem to be suffering from influenza and it still continued to spread. But not only that, this influenza had some added symptoms. People still suffered from fevers, body aches, coughs and congestion, and sometimes vomiting. But Carlisle had also seen several influenza patients cough up blood or suffer from nose bleeds like Mr. Brown did.

"My nose is bleeding like I've been in a punching match," Mr. Brown joked, although it took Carlisle a second to understand what the man said, as he was still pinching his nose shut. But his small chuckle showed he meant the comment to be a jest. It was good to see the man joking a little; it meant he may not be as sick as he appeared.

But Carlisle still resolved to keep an eye on the man, even as he returned to his internal thoughts about the disease. This strain of influenza was so different that Carlisle knew some doctors that believed it _wasn't_ influenza, and they should be treating the patients for a different illness. Personally, Carlisle believed it was still influenza, as it was obviously transmitted the same way the flu was, and had many of the other symptoms. But it was alarming how extreme this outbreak was becoming. Carlisle glanced at the other patients, noticing just how many were still suffering from the illness.

Suddenly in the bed next to Mr. Brown, a young man who couldn't have been more than eighteen, screamed, "The blanket is on fire!" and threw an ordinary hospital blanket on the floor. Carlisle looked at the boy's extremely pale face in horror and signaled for a nurse to retrieve some water for the young man. It was obvious his fever was so high the young man was delirious. Hopefully they could bring his temperature down before it was too late. Even without the blanket, the patient still screamed, "Fire!" and his body shook violently.

Carlisle quickly accepted the cup of cool water for the patient to drink. Meanwhile, the nurse began attempting to apply a cool wash cloth to his body as well. Unfortunately, the patient was too delirious to allow their assistance. He knocked the cup of water onto the floor while he continued to shake and scream. He also pushed the nurse away with his muscular arm. Then, just as suddenly as the boy's fit began, it ended and the young man's brown eyes rolled back into his head as he fainted.

Carlisle looked at the boy, even more terrified than before. He immediately tried to prop the patient up, so the boy could swallow some aspirin tablets. As he did so, he understood why the young man thought he was being burned alive. The boy was almost hotter than a fireplace. The nurse immediately began washing the boy, whose name Carlisle realized was Justin Simpson.

But as Carlisle returned to assist Mr. Brown with his nosebleed, Justin Simpson breathed his last. The boy was the second patient they'd lost today from this horrible influenza epidemic. With the addition of the three other patients who had died of smoke inhalation today and the many who had died of gunshot wounds and gases, it had been another difficult day.

And it wasn't over yet, Carlisle added to himself as he looked at the sun's low point in the sky. Soon they would all hear the German planes flying in the dark. They all knew it was only a matter of time before they were bombed again. Yet as difficult as it was for him, Carlisle knew it was even more difficult for someone else. He watched Siobhan finish her shift, her face trying to remain as neutral as possible. But Carlisle was well aware that the woman still spent many nights crying for her fiancé.

Carlisle stopped her as she was about to leave the hospital. "Rough day?" he asked, thinking that it may help her to talk. After all, they were friends.

Siobhan shrugged, her nurses hat wiggling as she did so. "No more than usual, Carlisle," she replied. "Every day is the same. Ever since…" she broke off and bit her lip, obviously trying to keep from crying.

Carlisle nodded, wondering again why Liam had die as he pictured his friend's, dead, bloody body lying in the dirt. "I know," he replied in his gentle, calm voice.

"I keep thinking it will get better, you know?" Siobhan continued, turning around from the outside door and wandering back into the hospital room. Then she made her way to the supply closet that they had used the last time they had a private conversation. Carlisle realized she wanted to speak to him without anyone else listening again. So he carefully stepped inside and closed the door. "But it doesn't," she continued, looking straight into Carlisle's eyes in the small room. "The pain from losing Liam doesn't get better at all. And all these other soldiers we try to save, and they still die…it just makes it worse."

Carlisle nodded. "I'm not sure _when_ all this killing and dying will end," he agreed, thinking of all the soldiers that had been brought in with machine gun wounds that were beyond help. Liam had died from one of those. And then there were the victims of the gases and the smoke inhalation because of the bombs. Five victims had died of those today. And this new flu was killing almost as many soldiers as the battles were.

"When I signed up to be a Red Cross Nurse, I thought it was a great way to help men and serve my country," Siobhan commented, shaking her head. "But now...I don't know if it's worth it. The war, I mean. If only I could just _wish_ the war to be over."

Carlisle took a step closer to her, needing to be near someone who thought exactly like he did. Closer than even the last time they were in this room together. He knew he was supposed to want the United States and the other Allies to win, but after seeing all this killing, wouldn't it be better for the war to just end? Ephraim's face flashed in Carlisle's mind again, reminding him how the Germans deserve peace just as much as the Allies did. "I think peace would be better than this, too," he admitted softly, cupping her cheek to get a better view of her eyes. The light in this room was dim, after all.

Siobhan's pretty green eyes were full of tears, and Carlisle carefully wiped them away with his other hand. He didn't know what else to do for her. He wasn't sure what else to do for anyone right now.

Siobhan sniffed, a sign she was close to tears again, and Carlisle sighed. What could he do for his friend? Suddenly Siobhan wrapped both of his arms around him and clutched Carlisle tightly.

Carlisle wasn't used to holding people so closely, but if this helped his friend he didn't really mind. Her warm body felt surprisingly good so close to his, after touching so many people who died lately. He wrapped his arms around her just as tightly.

"Carlisle," Siobhan whispered in the dark and then he felt her warm lips on his neck and some hot tears as well. "I hate this war."

"As do I," he told her. Driven to comfort her in somehow, Carlisle reached up to wipe her tears from her face again. As soon as he did, Siobhan's lips connected with his. Without thinking, he kissed her back, eager to experience life with someone in some way. They were both tired of taking care of dead people. And the air raids only made their situation worse. What if the next bomb hit the hospital? How many patients would that kill? Would it kill _them_?

Carlisle eventually removed his lips from hers and began covering the woman's neck with kisses. He couldn't believe how _alive_ he felt right now. More alive than he'd felt in a long time. He needed more. He returned his mouth to hers, this time pushing hers open. Siobhan seemed to be just as desperate as Carlisle was, as she accepted his tongue immediately. In fact, he felt her place one of her hands in his hair to push his face even closer.

The small storage room did not allow much movement, but it did add to the intimacy. It was almost as if it was a room for just Carlisle and Siobhan. No one would ever know what happened in this room but the two of them. When Siobhan moved her lips to Carlisle's neck to cover him with wet kisses, Carlisle moaned in pleasure. She made him feel so alive…

In fact Carlisle felt his pants tightening quite a bit as Siobhan continued covering his body with kisses and pulling him closer with her warm hands. It had been a long time since Carlisle had that type of release. _Too long_. Carlisle began unbuttoning his pants when Siobhan suddenly murmured, "Liam," as she kissed him again.

That word was like a bucket of snow for Carlisle, and he immediately backed away, knocking a pile of reports, just like he'd done the last time they were in this room. This was wrong, and Liam was the least of the reason why. "Siobhan _what_ are we doing?" he asked, ashamed of himself. He buttoned his pants again, faster than he'd believed it was possible to do so.

Siobhan looked back at Carlisle uncertainly. "I don't know. I was upset and you made me feel better…" she replied slowly.

Carlisle shook his head. " _No_ ," he said for the benefit of both of them. "This isn't the correct way to make each other feel better. You are a respectable nurse that I should be treating properly. Not to mention the fact that you're still grieving for Liam. And _I_ am a married man." Carlisle couldn't believe he hadn't thought of Esme at all in the last several minutes. How was that possible? "I should have never have let this go on as long as I did," he continued, trying to pull his face further away from her than it already was. "But it will never happen again. I promise you that."

With that, Carlisle walked out of the storage room quickly and returned to the real world of the hospital. Full of patients that may die any time. Still Carlisle would do his best to help them however he could tomorrow. For now, he walked away from the hospital, hoping to leave his shame behind.

 **I know reading this chapter isn't easy, and it will probably make those that consider Carlisle and Esme to be their OPT particularly upset. I understand that, but remember, Carlisle and Esme are one of my OPTs, too. At any rate, I hope some of you give me a review for this chapter (even if it is to throw tomatoes at me).**

 **Bloomandgrow: Glad you like how the farm is affected by the war. (Believe it or not, most of that came from 11** **th** **grade history class.)**

 **Thanks again for the information about the Geneva Convention, and I'm glad you liked Carlisle's dilemma about Ephraim.**

 **And here's some more Calvin/Kate in this chapter.**


	14. Summer

Summer

 **Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Twilight.**_

One warm sunny afternoon in June, Esme finally found two letters in her Cullen mailbox. One was from Carlisle and the other was from Junior. Her eyes lit up as she saw their names on the return address and she sighed in relief that both men had survived the German air raids. At the same time, her chest tightened that there was no letter from Alan. Esme reminded herself again that Amy would tell her if anything _really_ horrible happened to her brother.

"Look, Edward," Esme commented to her son, who was on the floor playing with his toy train. "Letters!" She held up the envelopes from Carlisle and Junior in the air for him to see.

"Da – Da!" Edward grinned. He carefully stood up and pointed at the letters.

Esme smiled at him. "That's right, Edward! One of them is from Daddy. Would you like to hear what Daddy wrote?"

Edward nodded.

Esme sat down in her large rocking chair with Carlisle's letter in her hand. "Come," she told her son, patting her lap gently. Edward toddled over and climbed on to his mother, pulling her light violet skirt up a little as he sat down.

Esme gently pulled her skirt down and began reading.

" _Dear Esme,_

 _Let me first reassure you that I am not physically hurt from the German bombs. In fact, I'm blessed to say I have received no injuries or major illnesses since arriving in France. However, your information is correct that the air raids are_ everywhere _right now. A week ago, our barracks was bombed in the middle of the night, creating a hole in the ceiling. More importantly, the bombs caused several fires that injured some men and killed others. I am constantly overwhelmed by all the death over here, Esme. Just when I think I understand how to treat patients from one condition, a new one appears. And soldiers with gunshot wounds and gas inhalation continue to pour in as well._

 _My friend Liam died from a gunshot wound last month. You remember when I wrote about him? He and his fiancée, Siobhan used to remind me of us. After all, their relationship developed as Siobhan treated him for a wounded shoulder, just as ours began when I was treating you for your broken leg. And now Liam is gone. I miss my friend, Esme, and it's very difficult to be here without him. Still, I try to continue to save as many soldiers as I can._

 _But enough of such depressing thoughts. You mentioned in one of your most recent letters that our Edward has learned to walk!"_

At the sound of his name, Edward looked up at Esme and babbled, "Ard!" in delight.

Esme smiled at his innocence. Edward didn't understand anything about bombs or gunshot wounds, but he certainly understood his own name. "That's right, Edward! Daddy is writing about you," she agreed as she patted his head of bright red hair. If only he could stay as innocent as he was right now…

Esme sighed and continued,

" _That is wonderful news and I continue to be extremely proud of him, even though I'm not here to tell him so."_

"Do you hear that Edward?" she asked him. "Daddy says he's proud of you!"

"Da – Da," Edward agreed pointing to Carlisle's letter.

" _I hope I will be able to return soon, and tell him how proud I am of him in person. But for now, thank you for keeping me updated, Esme. Hearing about you and Edward gives me a lot more happiness than all the death I face while I'm here. And your letters continue to give me hope that I will be able to come home and see you and our boy. I love you, Esme. Don't forget that. And I look forward to your cookies waiting for me when I do finally arrive home as well. I love you and Edward very much._

 _Love,_

 _Carlisle_

The large clock showed it was almost 3:00PM. It was time for Esme to do another load of laundry. She put aside Junior's letter and placed Edward back on the floor. "Pats?" Edward asked, noticing his mother was heading for the kitchen. Esme sighed and nodded as he toddled into the room with her.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Later that night, after Edward had gone to bed, Esme opened the letter from Junior.

 _Dear Esme,_

 _Stop panicking, sis. I'm fine over here. Of course, you're right, the German dogs are bombing us_ everywhere _right now, but I haven't been hit by one._

 _I have to admit it bothers me, watching all those German planes light up the sky every night, though. Those planes and their pilots are just another thing that the Germans have more than we do. Why can't we Americans have an air force like those German dogs? Then we'd have enough planes to take care of these German bombers before they hit us! But President Wilson is still lagging behind when it comes to giving us supplies over here._

 _I have heard that the U. S. Army is starting a flight school in France, though. So more army men will be able to fly fighter planes soon. Their looking for volunteers, and my friend Dan is thinking of joining. If he does, I probably will join as well. I'd love the chance to attack those German fighter planes!_

Esme put the letter aside, feeling relieved that her oldest brother wasn't hurt, and simultaneously more worried that he was considering becoming a fighter pilot. She was pretty certain she heard that fighter pilots had one of the most dangerous jobs in the army.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Esme was still nervous about what might happen to her brothers. Junior, who wanted to become a fighter pilot, and Alan who she _still_ hadn't heard from at all. Not to mention Carlisle, who seemed to be struggling with all the dead people he must take care of in Europe. Besides, any of them could be bombed by the Germans at any moment.

Still, Esme promised herself not to let those things bother her too much today. It was the Fourth of July, after all! It was a beautiful sunny day, and her whole family gathered again to watch the parade. Edward and Nathan clapped with delight as the high school band marched by. Edward also enjoyed the bright red fire trucks. Father watched the John Deere tractors, just as he always had. But to Esme's surprise, Timmy seemed to be just as interested in them. She hadn't realized how much her brother had grown up this past year. Last year, all he cared about was the fire trucks.

The American Red Cross also marched, and Esme waved at several of her friends from the group. She had been asked to march with them this year, but Esme decided she would rather watch the parade with Edward and the rest of her family. Everyone paid special attention to the veterans as the marched in their blue uniforms. After all, these men had defended their country in the past, just like Alan, Junior, and Carlisle were doing now. And the Fourth of July was the day all Americans remembered what it meant to belong to this country.

After the parade was finished, Esme's family made their way back to the farm, as they had agreed to have a cook – out to celebrate the occasion as well. Father built a large fire to cook the food, and Esme and Amy made certain their children didn't get to close to it. Esme was eager to demonstrate everyone how well Edward walked, but she naturally didn't want him to get burned. Nathan was crawling now, and Amy was just as eager to show how well her son was doing without having him harmed.

"Can walk over here, Edward? Where it's not so hot?" Esme asked her son. "Walk from Mommy to Grandma, all right?"

Edward smiled, revealing all six of his teeth. Then he obediently toddled over to his Grandma, who lifted him up in the air when he arrived in her arms. "What a big boy you are, Edward!" Mother exclaimed. "Walking and everything."

Edward giggled and reached for his grandmother's nose. "Ard!" he babbled, recognizing his name.

Meanwhile, Amy instructed Nathan to crawl to Camille and Linda, who were sure to stay far away from the fire as well. Nathan did so, and they all cheered for him as well.

Finally, Father (and Timmy, who insisted on helping as well) finished and they had a steady flame for cooking. Mother pulled out the pots and pans to cook, and Esme had to hold her son back so he wouldn't begin playing with the "pats." "Sorry, Edward. Not today."

Edward fussed and pouted for a few moments, but then quickly began more interested in playing with Camille, Linda, and Nathan.

With Edward occupied, Esme decided to assist her mother with the cooking. As Mother carefully balanced the large pot of water to boil the corn on the cob, Esme prepared the frying pan. "Do you know where ham – I mean, salisbury steak is?" Esme asked looking around for the ground meat. She was glad that Americans had decided _not_ to use German names for food anymore. Not after what they had done to Carlisle, and Junior, and Alan. And to America in general. But sometimes it could be difficult to remember to call a food one thing when you'd grown up calling it something else.

"It should be right next to the corn, where all of the other food is," Mother replied, keeping a firm eye on the pot of water, so it wouldn't tip over.

Esme squinted as she examined the table of food. It was difficult to see with the sun in her eyes, but she finally food the meat. After checking to make certain Edward was still far away from the fire, Esme began cooking the salisbury steak.

As the salisbury steak cooked and the corn – on – the – cob boiled, Timmy began eyeing the food closely. "When is it going to be done?" His hand reached out as if he might take some right out of the pan.

"Timmy," Mother said firmly. "You know better than to eat before everyone is served and Father and I say so. And make sure you don't get so close you'll get burned."

"Mom! I helped _build_ the fire. I'm old enough to understand fire safety. And I really wish you'd start calling me 'Tim.'" He stood up as straight as possible and puffed out his chest, obviously trying to look as grown – up as he possibly could. Esme stared at her brother, shocked at how much older he looked and sounded now. She knew he was growing up; he'd made that clear this morning, with his interest in the new tractors. But sometimes he still caught her by surprise. _Tim?_ More name changes, Esme thought as she cooked the salisbury steak.

"Fine, _Tim_ ," Mother replied firmly. "But I still insist you _not_ eat any of the food until it has been served and Father and say to do so. If you would like, you can cook the fr – hot dogs, but only if you _don't eat them yet_." Esme smiled. Apparently Mother struggled with these name changes as well.

Still, as _Tim_ proudly began roasting the _hot dogs,_ Esme couldn't help but think their new name was much better than calling them their German name, "frankfurters."* With that thought, she finished cooking the salisbury steak and placed them on plates. Her mouth watered as she smelled the meat's aroma.

Then Esme ran to scoop up Edward, who had been making his way to the fire. "No, Edward," she stated as firmly as she could. "Too hot, remember? It will hurt you." _Like those fire bombs could hurt Carlisle and Alan and Junior,_ Esme suddenly thought. She stared at the cooking fire with new, sinister, eyes.

Then Esme looked at the delicious food again, and reminded herself that this was a celebration. With that, she placed Edward back on the ground where Amy, Nathan, Camille, and Linda were. "Let's play," she said to all of them.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOOOO

Carlisle's army base hadn't been bombed in over a month, thank goodness. But they had other problems instead, especially in the base hospital. The weather felt warm and summery to Carlisle right now and the sun was often shining. But many of his patients shivered, pulling the hospital blankets up to their ears. Others complained of being burned and suffered from delirium because of their high fevers. The sound of coughing was more common than any other noise here.

Carlisle had never experienced or heard such a terrible influenza epidemic. There were more patients suffering from the flu now than the regular battle wounds, and more flu victims came in all the time. It had gotten to the point where some patients were forced to lie on the floor because there weren't enough beds. In fact, Carlisle looked down at his feet to treat his latest patient, a young man with almost black hair who seemed to be thinner every time Carlisle saw him.

The man's ears wee bleeding, so Carlisle cleaned them up, although the man's constant coughing made that difficult.

"So – cough, deep cough, - ory," the man attempted to say as Carlisle cleaned the man's ears for the second time.

Carlisle smiled. "Don't worry about it," he told the young man, although his voice was muffled behind the mask the base had insisted all the doctors wear now. Finally Carlisle finished cleaning the blood, although he told the patient to try to hold the handkerchief in place behind his ear, just in case.

That was another problem with this terrible flu. Not only was it striking an overwhelming amount of people, but it was a much tougher strain of influenza. Patients had all the normal symptoms, although Carlisle thought many of those symptoms seemed worse than they usually did. But patients also suffered from bloody ears and noses, and some coughed up blood. It seemed to be killing everyone.

Including nurses, Carlisle thought with a heavy heart as he noticed Nurse Kelly, a young blood – haired woman, lying on the floor a few feet away. Yesterday she'd helped Carlisle try to bring the fever down of one of the patients. Today she was coughing and complaining of joint aches that left her too weak to walk.

Carlisle stepped over to her and leaned down on the floor again. "Here," he told her, handing her an aspirin. "This should help with the body aches."

Nurse Kelly nodded gratefully and swallowed the aspirin. Carlisle couldn't get used to how many female patients he had now. A few months ago, he thought it was shocking that "Calvin" was a female patient in an army base. Today, Carlisle treated many nurses and female ambulance drivers that had succumbed to this terrible influenza.

"Here comes another one!" an ambulance operator announced over all the sounds of coughing, carrying in a new patient on a stretcher. The new patient had obviously spent quite a bit of time in the trenches, as he was covered in dirt. But Carlisle could also tell he was another flu victim, because his eyes were inflamed and he was coughing up blood.

Captain Ganger, the doctor in charge of the hospital, scanned the large room that housed over three hundred beds, every one of them filled. All of the available spots on the floor were filled as well. "Put him in the supply closet over there," he told the ambulance operators, pointing at the supply closet which Carlisle had committed the largest sin he'd ever perpetrated in his life.

Carlisle felt sorry for the man; he felt sorry for all of his patients. But he purposely ignored him as he was brought into that room. Carlisle hated that room. Every time he saw it, he remembered the heat between him and Siobhan when they were in that room together. He remembered how he let himself embrace and kiss Siobhan in order to make himself feel better for a few moments. And what he'd _almost_ done didn't even bare thinking about. How could he have done such a thing to a woman who wasn't Esme? How could he have broken his marriage vows like that? That room had caused Carlisle to do more evil than even the alcohol he'd once consumed, and he didn't want anything to do with it. Ever again.

OOOOOOOOOOO

Two weeks later, influenza patients still filled the hospital. Every bed was in use and the floor was covered with patients that were desperate to find _any_ place to lie down. All the supply closets, including the one Carlisle still refused to enter, also housed flu victims. And people seemed to be dying all the time, more than ever before.

Mr. Prichard, a man who appeared about Carlisle's age, suddenly stopped breathing as Carlisle tried to stop the blood he was coughing. Carlisle sighed and pronounced another man dead, and watched his body be taken away. Meanwhile, another patient who seemed to be suffering from chills the way he was shivering on the floor, immediately claimed the new bed. _"Oh, God, please help us,"_ Carlisle whispered, as he pulled a blanket around the new patient and handed him an aspirin and water. _"Why is this happening?"_

Carlisle hoped God would still listen to him when he prayed, after what he'd done to Siobhan. He'd always believed that God would forgive anything; after all that's what Christ preached. But although he still read the Bible and prayed, he wasn't so sure anymore. Forgiveness of _some_ sins made sense, like when Carlisle occasionally snapped at his father or Esme. The mistake Carlisle made (and almost made) the night he'd gotten drunk was forgiven by God. Carlisle even knew God forgave him the time he'd rejected Him, after Thomas's death. But this was different. Carlisle's most recent sin hadn't just affected him; it had affected Siobhan, too. How could he kiss a respectable nurse like she was a common street woman? And she wasn't just any nurse, she had been his friend. And another friend's fiancée. And then there was Esme. How would Carlisle's wife react if she knew he'd passionately kissed a woman that wasn't her? And what might have he have done if Siobhan hadn't said Liam's name? Would God still listen to a man like Carlisle? He didn't know.

Carlisle's eyes spanned all the patients that covered the hospital, the sounds of moaning and coughing filling the room. Suddenly his eyes fell on Siobhan's red hair at the other end, as she appeared to be sponging another fever victim. It was nice to see her up again, at least from a distance. Last week, Siobhan had been in a bed herself, suffering from the same coughing, body aches, and fevers she was now treating patients for. Somehow, Siobhan had been one of the people who had _survived_ the influenza. Perhaps God had forgiven her part in their sin, at least. Or...the doctor who studied things excessively inside Carlisle began to take over. Perhaps Siobhan's blood had something in it that repelled the disease better than others did?

If that was the case, could Siobhan's blood possibly save the patients suffering from influenza?

Of course, in order for that to work, Carlisle would have to speak to his former friend, a woman he'd been avoiding for the last month or so even more than the forbidden closet. Would Siobhan want anything to do with Carlisle, a man who treated her with extreme disrespect and caused her to dishonor her fiancé's memory? He didn't know, but Carlisle made his way across the hospital, checking on patients as he went, anyway. If there was even a possibility that Siobhan's blood could save some of these people, he had to ask.

By the time Carlisle reached Siobhan, the man she'd been treating had already died. The body was removed, and Siobhan had begun filling cups with water so patients could swallow aspirins. "Siobhan," Carlisle said to her as clearly as he could with his face mask on. He purposely didn't look at her face so he couldn't see the anger and the hurt in her eyes.

"Dr. Cullen," Siobhan replied, as she filled another cup of water. Her voice was muffled through her own face mask but Carlisle could plainly hear that she had not used his first name. Of course she was calling him "Dr. Cullen" again instead of his first name, Carlisle thought to himself. After all, they weren't friends anymore. "What can I do for you?"

Carlisle paused for a moment, trying to sound more confident than he felt. If it worked… "I understand you have survived the influenza," he began, still looking away from her face.

"It appears so," Siobhan replied, neutrally.

"I wondered if it might have something to do with your blood," Carlisle continued. "In my studies, doctors speak of some people having natural antibodies to certain disease."

Siobhan shrugged as she picked up a tray of waters. "Maybe."

"If that's the case, do you think your blood may help the patients fight the influenza?"

Siobhan handed one of the waters to a patient lying on the floor, moaning with pain, and Carlisle handed him an aspirin. "I don't know, Dr. Cullen. I've never thought about that before."

"Siobhan, I know you don't want to spend time with me anymore, but if there's a chance we could help these people…" Carlisle's eyes looked over the entire hospital again, covered with flu victims. If there was a way to save them, even some of them, Carlisle was willing to try anything. Would Siobhan feel the same way?

Finally Siobhan nodded. "I think I'm type O, so it couldn't hurt to try." They squeezed into the corner of the hospital, which was the only free spot available, and Carlisle took out a needle and a syringe out of his black bag. He focused on finding a vein and did his best to place it in gently, although Siobhan's short scream indicated he didn't really succeed.

"I still wish I could just get rid of this war," Carlisle thought he heard Siobhan comment softly through her mask as he filled a vial with her blood. "It's pointless."

"Siobhan, let's not discuss that right now," Carlisle told her firmly, not willing to go back to the topic that caused them to sin before. They were already too close for his comfort; once again he felt her warm body in his hands. But he needed her help. If she could save some of the patients…

Siobhan nodded and stayed silent as he collected her thick, red blood.

In some ways, Carlisle had to admit, he agreed with Siobhan more than ever about the war. After all, he was well aware that this horrible flu epidemic was spreading so much because of this war. How could all this death, whether by disease or by weapons, be right? Once again, Ephraim's face flashed in his mind. And yet, Carlisle didn't want to think that way. After all, it was that kind of thinking that caused his sinful actions before. He preferred to remember President Wilson's ideas for what would happen when the Allies won the war. Such plans would prevent other wars from happening. If they could just get through this war, perhaps it really would be the last one they would ever see.

"Thank you," Carlisle told her after he had collected a few vials of her blood. "If this works, I will ask for more." Once again, he made sure not to look at her in the eyes.

Siobhan nodded again, and Carlisle got up to give some patients their possible salvation.

* **Yes, my fellow Americans that is why we started calling them hot dogs.**

 **I'm going to be taking a break from this story for a while, partly because my children are on summer vacation, partly because I want to concentrate on other projects, and partly because I'm trying to "time" this story so some of the holidays correspond with the real ones.**

 **I'm going to do my best to start posting again in October.**

 **But please** _ **do**_ **tell me what you think of this chapter!**

 **Here's some responses.**

 **Kiwhipp: It's** _ **definitely**_ **good that Siobhan made the mistake of calling Carlisle Liam, so nothing worse happened. That being said, I think Carlisle at least, already has plenty of regrets.**

 **Bloomandgrow: I'm glad you like my Edward moments. (You know how I love the "kids interacting with the parents" moments. :) ) I agree with you, though. It's too bad that Carlisle is missing so much of Edward's babyhood.**

 **No, it really isn't surprising that Carlisle had a weak moment with Siobhan. In the beginning of the story, Carlisle was a bit naïve, thinking he wouldn't bother with sleeping with other women the way a lot of soldiers do. It's admirable, of course, but he underestimated how tempting it can be to feel a woman when you're surrounded by so much death.**

 **Catspector: You are correct; Carlisle should be finding solace by thinking of Edward and Esme (and God). He knows that; it's one of the reasons why he feels so guilty in this chapter for what he did** _ **and**_ **almost did. But it can be more difficult than most people realize for soldiers to do that on a daily basis.**


	15. A Brush with Death

A Brush with Death

 **Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Twilight.**_

 **Between how busy my RL life is going to be for the next couple of months and the fact that I have short stories planned for other fandoms, the next chapter of this story should be up in December.**

Esme spent the next couple of months writing and receiving letters from Carlisle, taking care of Edward, and doing regular chores around the house. She also did her best to read the newspaper so she would understand what was happening with the war and what the American government was doing about it. With the little free time she had, Esme made sure to paint and draw. After all, art was the best treatment she'd found for dealing with the war and Carlisle and her brothers' role in it. In the past she'd painted an American flag, a self – portrait, a picture of spring on the farm, a sketch of Carlisle and of Carlisle and Edward together, and a sketch of her brothers. Now Esme was almost finished with painting a series of brown wool socks, complete with knitting needles and balls of yarn. She supposed she and the other Red Cross ladies would have to start knitting socks for the soldiers again soon, considering the war was _still_ not over.

Esme remembered reading in the newspaper how quickly everyone believed the war would be over once the United States became officially involved. _That_ certainly hadn't happened. It had been over a year since the United States had started fighting those Germans, and the war continued into the end of September.

Esme sighed and shook her head as she kept looking through a book of Shakespeare's Sonnets she'd borrowed from the library. At the moment, it was better for her to concentrate on something she could do, rather than wonder how much longer the Great War would last. Carlisle's birthday was approaching, and Esme had decided to find him an appropriate sonnet to copy for him as a present. After all, Carlisle loved Shakespeare's Sonnets.

Those hours, that with gentle work did frame….  
And that unfair which fairly doth excel;  
For never-resting time leads summer on  
To hideous winter, and confounds him there;  
Sap checked with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone,….  
Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,  
Nor it, nor no remembrance what it was:  
But flowers distilled, though they with winter meet,  
Lese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.*

No, Esme thought to herself as she skimmed through the pages of poems. That one was all wrong. It implied Carlisle's male beauty would disappear as he grew older. It was an insult to him, especially after the sonnet he'd sent to her once, about how Esme had only become more beautiful as she became his wife and bore him Edward.

Esme flipped ahead a few pages and continued reading. She was determined to find a poem that fit Carlisle. Sonnet 24 looked promising Esme thought as she began reading it more thoroughly.

 _When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes_  
 _I all alone beweep my outcast state,_  
 _And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,_  
 _And look upon myself, and curse my fate,_  
 _Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,_  
 _Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,_  
 _Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,_  
 _With what I most enjoy contented least;_  
 _Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,_  
 _Haply I think on thee, and then my state,_  
 _Like to the lark at break of day arising_  
 _From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;_  
 _For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings_

 _That then I scorn to change my state with kings.**_

 _Carlisle told her he was quite depressed about how many men were dying at the base, despite his attempt to treat them. But thinking of Esme always cheered him up, just like this poem said. On the other hand, Esme wasn't sure if it was a good idea to_ _remind_ _him of his misery. No, she thought, it was best to find another one. She began looking through the poems again._

 _Abruptly, Esme through the book of sonnets down when she heard a terrible noise. Edward's cry of pain mixed with a wail of "Mama!" from his bedroom. She thought he had another half hour of his nap. Was one of his hands caught in his crib? She'd heard of that happening to some babies. Esme flew up the stairs with speed she didn't know she had, ready to solve whatever the problem was._

"Ma" sniff, "Ma" sniff, Edward cried as Esme walked into the room. He was sitting up in his crib with huge tears running down his cheeks. Those tears broke Esme's heart into a million pieces. What was wrong with her son?"

"Edward, honey, what's the matter?" she asked as she picked him up. As soon as she did, she knew what the problem was. He was burning up with fever.

"Ard, hot," Edward replied, looking at his mother with sad, red eyes that broke her heart even further.

"Oh, Edward," Esme replied. She quickly took off his outfit, a blue cotton shirt with dark blue cotton pants. Now he only wore a simple cotton diaper. Yet he still felt quite hot. Never before had she been so glad that this house had its own water closet and washroom. Faster than competition racer, Esme zipped into the washroom with Edward and began rinsing him with a cool wash cloth. "Better?" she asked him as the wash cloth touched his hot skin.

"Yes," Edward replied, but he still looked unhappy and sounded congested. It was probably because he'd been crying for so long. Yes, that was definitely the reason why.

"Edward does this ear hurt you?" Esme asked as she wiped his face carefully with the cool wash cloth again. She looked carefully at his left ear. It didn't appear to be irritated, but that didn't mean anything. Carlisle had told her sometimes ear infections were difficult to see with the naked eye.

"No," Edward replied, confused.

"Does this one hurt?" she asked, now looking at his right ear. It still didn't look infected, but that didn't mean anything.

"No!" Edward protested sharply. "No hurts Mama, just hot." He picked up the cool wash cloth and rubbed it on his naked chest.

Esme sighed and continued rubbing the cloth herself. She had really hoped his fever had a simple explanation, like an ear infection. It would be extremely painful and uncomfortable for several days, but he would recover from it. Since he didn't have any "hurts," Esme supposed he probably didn't have an infection. That meant…he couldn't have that terrible influenza virus, could he?

The flu epidemic that Carlisle had said was a huge problem among the soldiers in Europe was now making its way into America, according to the news. First New York, then Boston. Then some of the other coastal cities. Now it was making its way inland. Had it reached Columbus yet? Surely not. Her innocent Edward couldn't have that influenza virus that was killing everyone that encountered it. Esme turned on the cool water in the washroom again. When she put the wash cloth on Edward's skin, she couldn't help but notice he seemed warmer than he was before. _He doesn't have influenza_ , Esme told herself firmly, gently washing him.

OOOOOOOOOO

The next day, Esme was forced to put her Edward in the hospital. As much as she hated to admit it, Esme could no longer deny that he had influenza. His fever was higher than ever and he was also vomiting and coughing all the time.

Still, once she'd brought Edward to the hospital, he was forced to share a bed with another influenza patient. Were there really that many cases that Edward couldn't have his own bed or was Dr. Aro Pinero showing his dislike for Esme again? Edward vomited again as soon as he laid down, and Esme held up a waste basket just in time. Next him, a middle – aged balding man coughed continuously. In fact, it seemed as if he were struggling to breathe. Could that happen to her Edward? _No, please, no!_

A nurse rushed in, noticing Edward. She looked to be about Camilla's age. "A new patient I see," she seemed to sigh through her mask. "And such a young one, too," the nurse added as she wiped the vomit off his face. "I don't know if I can keep up with it all. Overnight, the flu victims just started showing up." Then she turned to the middle aged man who was barely taking in air at the moment. "I should ask Dr. Pinero for one of those new oxygen masks he just bought for this man."

With that the nurse disappeared around the corner. Esme sighed, realizing that there really _were_ that many flu cases in Columbus already. She supposed it wouldn't be long before this city was covered with pieces of crepe on their doors, as the newspapers said they did in New York City when a family member had died of the influenza virus. _Just, please don't let it be Edward. I can't lose another son!_ Esme thought in horror as Edward gave several loud coughs, just like the middle – aged man next to him. She felt like scooping Edward up and carrying him away from the man's nasty germs, but where else could she put him? Apparently all the beds in the hospital were already filled with flu patients. They'd all have germs.

Suddenly Dr. Pinero appeared in the room, carrying himself like he was God on Earth, like he always had. At least Carlisle didn't act like this man, although he'd learned a lot about medicine from him. Still, as Dr. Pinero pulled the strange – looking mask attached to a tube and a baggy, the man seemed to breathe easier. Dr. Pinero was a good doctor, Esme had to admit. If Dr. Pinero could help Edward, she didn't care how superior he acted.

Dr. Pinero nodded to Esme and checked Edward's heartbeat, which seemed to be steady for now. Just before the doctor left, Edward threw up again. This time most of it ended up on his clothing instead of the waste basket.

Esme sighed and took off her son's clothing, noticing again how hot he was. She felt as if she had put her hand on a hot stove. Edward moaned softly, like he was too weak to make any other noise. "I _will_ do something to help you," she promised her son, as he looked at her with pleading eyes.

Just then, the same nurse she saw earlier appeared and handed Esme a glass of cool water. "Dr. Pinero says your boy should have a drink; with all the vomiting he's been doing he could get dehydrated."

Esme nodded and quickly accepted the chance for her son's salvation. Just as quickly as she arrived, the nurse vanished.

For a second Esme wondered if she had the power to disappear into thin air, but there were more important things to worry about. Like helping Edward. She carefully helped him sit up and held the water to his mouth, one sip at a time. Much of it still spilled on his chest, but perhaps that was fine too. The cool water may lower his fever.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOOOO

Carlisle held a cup of steaming hot water over a patient who was currently coughing and wheezing. The influenza virus had finally run its course, but the Germans were bombing relentlessly again. This young man, who appeared to be about twenty years old, was suffering from the smoke inhalation that the bombs caused. His face was also covered with bandages from second – degree burns.

"Thanks, Doc," the young man said to Carlisle as he finally stopped coughing. According to his tags, his name was Harold Stockbridge. He flashed Carlisle a bright smile. "I'm sure in no time I'll be out of this bed again. I just hope I can get back out there before the war is over. There's," he paused and began coughing and wheezing again, so Carlisle immediately placed the steaming water in the Harold's face again. When he was finally able to breathe normally again, he finished, with " – a rumor that the allies are discussing armistice with the Germans."

Carlisle nodded as he began inspecting the Harold's burns to make certain they weren't infected. He'd heard about the armistice, too. He could only hope that the war would end soon, if that was the case. And perhaps President Wilson would be correct, and this would be the last war the world would ever see.

In the next bed, another patient who was a bit older than the one Carlisle was treating, perhaps in his mid – twenties, was recovering from a field gun wound to the leg. A young doctor, who was no more than nineteen years old, was currently washing the wound carefully with lye soap and water, and then bandage it up again with Nurse Emily's assistance. Despite the man's grunts and moans of pain, the young doctor, whose name was Dr. Johnson, did very well, and Carlisle nodded in approval. Dr. Johnson nodded back and continued working. All the doctors whom Carlisle had mentored here seemed to be acceptable physicians now, he was quite proud of them.

The older patient turned his head to look at Harold after his bandage was finally replaced. "I heard that the government types are talking about armistice, too. What I don't understand is why they're still making us fight any more if they're talking about peace. Don't you want to go home?" The patient sounded as weary as Carlisle felt. He sighed into his pillow and looked all over the hospital. " _Everyone_ here deserves to go home."

Harold shook his head as he lied in his own bed. "I just want another chance to get those Germans; that's all."

Carlisle shook his head as the two men continued to discuss the possibility of armistice as he made his way to another patient who had just been brought in. From the look of the wounds on him, though it didn't appear that this patient would live. Carlisle desperately hoped armistice would come soon. He couldn't handle all this death for much longer.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

After taking care of far too many soldier's wounds as well as a few who were unlucky enough to inhale the chlorine or mustard gas, Carlisle was done for the day. He ate good dinner at the mess hall, and then walked to the barracks by the lighted sky. As much as he appreciated the lights, they also made Carlisle nervous, as he knew the represented German bombers and French defense planes in the distance. He hoped and prayed that this base would not be hit by more bombs, especially when the war was supposedly close to being over.

Carlisle had started to believe in God again, and more importantly, that God believed in _him_. He felt God's love and presence while he was reading the Bible and praying, and he knew that meant the Lord cared about him after all. Before he reached the barracks, Carlisle discovered another way he knew God loved him. A letter from his beloved Esme. He cheerfully made his way to his room, eager to see what his wife had written this time. Perhaps she would even have a gift for his birthday enclosed in it.

Carlisle quickly lit a candle so he could read the letter, and then he opened the letter. Within a couple of moments, he realized this letter wasn't a happy birthday letter.

 _Dear Carlisle, October 10, 1918_

 _I've never been more frightened than I was last week, as something terrible happened to our Edward. He caught that terrible influenza virus that has been killing so many people. I think it's the same virus that you wrote had killed so many soldiers over the summer. Somehow, it has spread to America, and Edward, our innocent little boy, caught it!_

Carlisle's heart broke as he read Esme's words, especially as he saw the ink was smeared with his wife's tears. He was beginning to think it would have been better if he had never taken this position in the army. Certainly, Carlisle had helped some people, but even more soldiers died no matter what he tried. He'd been told the Germans were evil and needed to be stopped, but ever since he met Ephraim, Carlisle couldn't really believe that anymore. And now he found out that he was far away when his wife and son needed him desperately. His baby had caught that terrible flu? A flu that killed some men in only twelve hours?

He kept reading, anxious to hear more about Edward's condition. Was it possible that Edward had survived?

 _First, Edward had high fever, which could not be lowered no matter what I tried. Then he began to cough and vomit. I was forced to put him in the hospital, which was overloaded with flu patients. Soon after that he began sniffling and sneezing as well. At least he had Dr. Pinero to look after him. Your mentor isn't easy to deal with, but I know what a great doctor he is._

Carlisle nodded as he continued reading the letter. Dr. Pinero may be trouble in some ways, but if Carlisle couldn't treat his son himself, he was glad Dr. Pinero had done so. Still he didn't understand why America had such a problem with the flu. In the last couple of months the army had developed a vaccine for it and Carlisle was instructed to inject _all_ the soldiers with it. Shouldn't civilians have access to the vaccine as well?

 _My parents came to see Edward, which I thought was incredibly sweet, especially as they are getting ready for a huge harvest right now. But they love their grandson and me as well. Your father also visited several times, and even though we both know he's a difficult man, he helped a lot. He prayed over Edward and comforted me. He pleaded with God not to take another Edward from him. I think God must have heard your father, because Edward has recovered!_

 _Yesterday I brought him home and our house has never felt more welcoming, Carlisle. Still, I'm a little nervous that Edward may get sick again. I do hope you will return home soon so you can look after our son. What better doctor to make certain he doesn't get sick again than his own father? Besides, the house will only truly feel like a home when you're in it as well._

 _Love,_

 _Esme_

Carlisle shook his head, wishing he could transport himself home. Would the war _really_ end soon? Were they _really_ talking about peace? He sighed and blew out the candle and the put the letter aside. It was time to sleep.

 ***Shakespeare's V Sonnet.**

 ****Shakespeare's XXIV Sonnet.**

 **Thank you for the reviews from the last chapter. Please give me some for this chapter as well.**

 **Here's some responses.**

 **Bloomandgrow: Glad you like the Edward moments. You know how I feel about those kid moments. :) And I'm glad you like Carlisle's letters. Such a great way to show how much he still loves his family and wants to be a part of them, despite how far away he is.**

 **And yes, so many things they didn't know back then, whether it's the arrogant soldier who thinks joining the air force is a good idea, or doctors and nurse not treating patients correctly.**

 **From what I understand, a lot of doctors tried to use survivor's blood to treat patients. I had them mention basic blood type because that knowledge was available by this period, and as a nurse it's conceivable that Siobhan would know hers. But that being said, they** _ **still**_ **didn't know anything about RH factor, etc. so it's also possible that Carlisle still caused more patients to die that way. On the other hand, I think that studying the survivor's blood was one of the things that led to the vaccine that the military had available, so whatever.**

 **And I'm glad you like the history in this. I do, too. :) It's one of the reasons why it's so enjoyable for me to write.**

 **Kiwhipp: Yes, the influenza got worse (and better at the same time, ironically) in this chapter. Glad you like Edward calling himself Ard. I know most children that age tend to shorten their names in a way that's easier for them to say. (And it's cute, isn't it?)**


	16. Home

Home

 **Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Twilight.**_

 **There will be an epilogue to this story, but it won't be posted until April.**

The train _finally_ pulled into Columbus, giving a sharp whistle as it did so.

Carlisle smiled in contentment that the fighting had ultimately stopped and he had been able to go home. It had been over a year since he'd seen this city, and Carlisle's eyes absorbed every detail he could see through the window on the train with delight. The skyscrapers that seemed to reach higher and higher every time he saw them. The restaurants which made Carlisle hungry for home cooking. Automobiles, which more and more people were buying every day, crept by on the streets, as did many horses and buggies. All these sights were so much better than all the death Carlisle was forced to witness in Europe. Even the ship which brought them home grew tiresome, as so many men simply wanted to return home as soon as possible.

Carlisle was generally a patient man, but those weeks on the navy ship wore on him. He was glad armistice had eventually happened, but all Carlisle had wanted to do was see Esme and Edward right away. Everything to be all right after he laid eyes on them; he knew they would. Although he loved seeing the sights of his hometown, he was still eager to see his wife and son. As everyone else on the train stood up, Carlisle did so as well, making certain he took his luggage.

Navy men, marine men, and other army men greeted their families as they climbed off the train. Some nodded as they shook their parents' hands. Some mothers cried as they hugged their sons, much to the sons' embarrassment. Some wives looked at their husbands with such hunger and longing, they may as well be in a bedroom. At last, Carlisle noticed Esme. She was dressed in a lavender dress and wore a white overcoat which was perfect for the weather Columbus had this time of year. She had her hair pinned up with small lavender combs. Her light brown eyes sparkled as they finally met his, over a year since the last time. She was beautiful, as always and Carlisle wanted to run into her arms and never let go.

But Carlisle knew showing such emotion in a crowded train station wasn't a good idea. Intense feelings, especially those between husband and wife, were best shown in private. Instead, Carlisle greeted her with a big smile and let his eyes caress her entire form. "Hello Esme, I missed you," he told her.

Esme's eyes caressed him with the same devotion. "Carlisle, it's _so_ good to see you again."

Then Father, who Carlisle had seen out of the corner of his eye, stepped forward. He was holding onto the hand of a toddler, who automatically hid behind Father's legs. "I'm _so_ proud of you, son for serving your country," Father told him, nodding at the dress army uniform Carlisle was wearing. Father's eyes shone with admiration Carlisle wasn't sure if he'd ever seen before. Even though Carlisle was still not sure joining the army had been the right decision anymore, he had to admit, giving Father this much pride was a wonderful feeling. Carlisle eagerly accepted Father's unusually warm handshake as he said, "Welcome home, son."

Then Esme smiled at the toddler who was still clutching onto Father's hand and peering through the small space between the tall man's legs. "Edward, look!" she said very gently and excitedly.

Meanwhile Carlisle gave a small gasp and stared at the boy. He had a full head of red hair and two green eyes that Carlisle could barely see. But most importantly, he stood on two little legs. He couldn't believe that boy was actually _Edward._ Carlisle knew that Edward was over a year and a half now. And Esme had been writing to him about how Edward was walking and talking now. But somehow, Carlisle had expected to see the small infant he'd left when he arrived. The pain of being gone so long hit Carlisle all over again as he stared at his son. "Hello, Edward." Carlisle said in the same gentle, excided voice that Esme had demonstrated using. "I'm your Dad."

Edward looked confused at that comment. "No," he replied.

Esme attempted to carefully guide Edward to Carlisle. "That's right, Edward!" She told him. "It's Daddy."

But Edward shook his head violently. "No! No! No Da – Da!" he said over and over, becoming louder as he continued. Carlisle's heart broke when he heard that. Why was Edward so upset at Carlisle? What had he done by leaving his family?

Father looked at Edward and shook his head in disappointment, especially as the boy began to pound his fists. "Edward calm down, now!" he commanded.

Edward only screamed and pounded louder.

Esme sighed and picked him up. "I sure he'll calm down soon. Come, Carlisle. Let's go home."

Carlisle nodded. Despite the problems with Edward, home sounded wonderful.

OOOOOOOOOO

Carlisle, Esme, and Edward arrived at Esme's parents' house for Thanksgiving two days later. Esme's mother greeted them with a warm smile that lit up her entire face. "Hello, Carlisle. Welcome home. Do you know Junior and Alan arrived home yesterday? The whole family is here for Thanksgiving again!"

"That's wonderful, Mother!" Esme agreed, enthusiastically. She quickly hugged both of her brothers, who were seated on the couch. Then she handed her mother a bowl of carrots and onions with her that she had grown in pots in their own home. A "victory garden" she had called it. "You can roast them in with the wild turkey, mother," she suggested brightly.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Esme's mother agreed, and they disappeared into the kitchen together. Edward toddled after them, as he didn't like being apart from Esme.

Carlisle nodded politely at Junior and Alan. They all came home, and that was nice, but he was beginning to realize that arriving home didn't solve everything. For example, Edward still became upset when Carlisle called himself "Daddy." He and Esme soon realized Edward associated "Daddy" with a piece of paper, rather than with Carlisle.

 _After they came home from the train station, Esme causally picked up a small piece of paper that was still lying on the table._

" _Da – Da," Edward pointed to the piece of paper._

 _Esme's smile went from one ear to the other. "That's right, Edward! This telegram is from Daddy. It told us that he would be at the train station today. And now he's home! See, here's Daddy." Once again, she directed Edward to look at Carlisle, who smiled gently at his son._

 _But Edward shook his head firmly. "No Da – Da." He picked up the telegram that Esme had dropped and clutched it tightly. "Da – Da." It broke Carlisle's heart that Edward still didn't understand that_ he _was_ _Edward's father. He turned to Esme, desperately hoping to understand._

 _Esme sighed, but her face showed comprehension. "I taught Edward to connect your letters with you. I never realized he thought that "Daddy" meant paper instead. I'm sorry. I should have showed him my brothers' letters or books as well. Then I could have realized his mistake and corrected it."_

 _Carlisle's heart went out to Esme, as the guilt showed clearly on her face. "No, Esme. You can't blame yourself for this; you already had so much to concern yourself with, trying to care for everything at home. Edward will learn who I am soon enough."_

When Edward shouted, "No!" as they called Carlisle "Daddy," to him, it was very painful. Still, Carlisle believed his son would understand soon enough.

It was his relationship with Esme that worried Carlisle the most.

 _Esme looked at him with intense longing after Edward had gone to sleep for the night. Her eyes burned for him even more than they did at the train station. "I'm so glad you're home again," she told him as they both entered their bedroom. "Seeing you here with us, and in this room with me. It makes everything right again."_

 _Her gentle hand grasped his slowly, just as they always did everything in the bedroom. She was obviously eager to resume their physical relationship. She deliberately leaned toward him for a kiss, and Carlisle wanted nothing more than to touch her soft lips with his. It was what he'd wanted for over a year, after all. He wished to have a proper reunion with the one person who understood him better than anyone else._

" _Oh Esme," he said softly, as he leaned toward her. But suddenly, it wasn't Esme's face he saw, but Siobhan's. The nurse he'd treated dishonorably. The woman with he'd almost betrayed Esme. Carlisle immediately pulled himself away in horror._

" _I can't…" he whispered, almost to himself. Then he left the room. Carlisle had thought God had finally forgiven him for that horrible mistake, but apparently not. He slept in the sitting room that night, and the night after that. Would he be reminded of Siobhan every time he tried to kiss or touch Esme now? Why? Esme was the woman he loved. She was the only woman he'd wanted to be with now. But he couldn't._

 _Since then, he'd avoided touching Esme in anyway or even making eye contact with her. Carlisle hated it, but he wasn't about to be confronted with Siobhan's face again._

So on Thanksgiving Day, Carlisle was alienated from his wife and his son. He was home, and yet he wasn't. Carlisle hoped Junior and Alan enjoyed the holiday and being home in general more than he did.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

"We thank thee, Lord for bringing _all_ of our family together for Thanksgiving this year," George Platt prayed sincerely as they all sat at the dinner table. He paused to focus on each of the men who had served last year. "We also thank thee for the wonderful harvest this year which has provided us with this feast."

"Amen," everyone agreed. Carlisle hoped God would hear his response. Perhaps if he prayed enough, God would forgive him for his mistake and he could be close to Esme again.

They all began sharing the feast after that. Carlisle set a couple of slices of roast wild turkey on his plate. Then he scooped a large spoonful of Esme's mother's wonderfully moist cornbread stuffing. He also placed some roasted carrots and onions his plate. The smell made Carlisle's mouth water.

"Carlisle, can you pass the turkey, please?" Esme's voice asked. "I need to cut up a piece for Edward."

Carlisle loved that Esme seemed to prepare Edward's plate before her own. She was a wonderful mother to their son. "Of course," he replied pleasantly. He picked up the platter of turkey and handed them to Esme, somehow without looking at her at all.

"Ard food!" Edward exclaimed excitedly as Carlisle heard Esme place his plate on his high chair. When Esme returned to her seat, he dared to smile at his son. His innocence was so adorable. All Edward cared about right now was the food.

"I'd like some of that cornbread stuffing, Carlisle," Junior asked, and Carlisle quickly handed him the bowl. "Nothing says home like Ma's cornbread stuffing! I've been dreaming about this since last year. Don't you agree Alan? Alan?"

Esme's other brother didn't seem to hear Junior at all.

" _I've_ been thinking of your mother's stuffing for a long time now, Junior," Carlisle commented, trying to show someone was paying attention to him.

"Hey bro!" Junior exclaimed, louder this time. He slapped Alan firmly on the back. Alan immediately stepped out of his chair and stood as straight as he could, like he was expecting a superior officer to arrive.

Everyone else stared at Alan for several minutes. No one knew _what_ he was doing.

"Are you playing a joke?" Junior asked. "Trying to pretend you're crazy or something?" He laughed and stood up straight as well.

"Alan, I think it's time to eat now," Amy said softly. "See, here's your mother's cornbread stuffing that you've been looking forward to." She placed the bowl of stuffing right under his face.

A moment later Alan's face broke into a grin. "Do I smell Ma's cornbread stuffing?"

Everyone laughed at that, although there was an unspoken tension in the air. Alan sat back down and began happily scooping the stuffing onto his plate, and Carlisle picked up a dish of green beans. It appeared that Alan may be having trouble with being "home" as well. He wondered if it was possible for either of them to ever feel like they belonged here anymore. _Help us, Lord_ , Carlisle whispered to himself as he finished swallowing the green beans.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOOO

Carlisle took another bite of steak without looking at Esme. He'd been home for two and a half weeks now, and he still barely glanced her way. Esme had missed Carlisle desperately when he was in Europe, but somehow now that he was here again, she missed him even more.

"Tatoes," Edward babbled, as he attempted to put a spoonful in his mouth.

"Yes, Edward, potatoes," said Esme. She smiled slowly as the spoon landed in his mouth.

"That's right Edward, eat your potatoes and you'll grow big and strong," said Carlisle, looking at their son with love in his eyes.

"Da Da tong," Edward commented as he pointed at Carlisle. Then scooped up another bite of potatoes. This time the potatoes landed all over his cheek instead of his mouth, but Edward didn't mind.

"That's right, Edward," Carlisle agreed with an even bigger smile on his face. "Daddy is strong." It was nice that Carlisle and Edward were bonding so much now, Esme thought. It didn't take him long to realize that "Daddy" meant Carlisle, rather than a letter. After all, Carlisle had flooded his love on Edward since he returned. A part of her enjoyed watching them; she'd missed seeing them together while Carlisle was in Europe. Yet, another part of her resented it, as much as she hated to admit it. Wasn't Carlisle capable of loving his wife anymore? Or had he left it somewhere in across the Atlantic?

Esme took a bite of her own potatoes, but they seemed to taste a little bitter. Perhaps the steak would have a better flavor.

OOOOOOOOOO

Washing the dishes that night, Esme wondered what type of Christmas they would have this year. She had daydreamed about the wonderful Christmas they would have when she realized Carlisle would be home. He'd always loved Christmas, after all, and he taught her to love it as well. They would buy a Christmas tree and haul it home in the buggy. Then the three of them would decorate it. Since Edward loved music, the would naturally sing Christmas songs as well. Joy would fill this house as never before. After all, it was the first Christmas that Carlisle could celebrate with Edward.

But how could that happen when Carlisle refused to touch her or look at her at all? The only time they talked anymore was when it concerned Edward. Esme scrubbed her plate harder and harder as she became more and more frustrated with her husband. When would he treat her like a wife again?

Shaking her head, Esme reminded herself again of the time she refused to treat Carlisle like a husband. After Thomas died, she'd blamed Carlisle for their baby's death and didn't even allow him to sleep in the same bedroom. But her Carlisle patiently loved her and waited until she was able to love him again. Whatever his problem was now, she could do the same for him. She would start with finishing these dinner dishes.

Just as she picked up a glass, the telephone rang. Esme dried off her hands and answered it. "Hello?"

"Hi, sis, I hate to tell you this, but Mother thinks you should know. Father is a little sick," said Junior's voice. He sounded causall, but Esme suspected it was more serious. She certainly didn't receive a telephone call every time Father caught a cold.

"How ill is 'a little sick'?" Esme asked suspiciously.

"Mother says he's had a pretty high fever and I've heard him cough quite a few times. She's terrified he has that influenza virus that killed so many people a couple of months ago. I tried to tell her that epidemic is over, but she wont listen." Esme heard Juinor sigh over the phone.

Esme's heart tightened at even the small possiblity of Father catching that terrible diesase. "Why don't I have Carlisle look at Father? He saw a lot of influenza in Europe. He should be able to tell if that's what it is."

"Oh, Esme don't bother your husband when he's supposed to have the night off from work," Junior protested. "Like I said, Mother is worried for nothing."

"I still think I'll speak to Carlisle," Esme replied, gently but firmly.

Esme sped to the living room where Carlisle was reading the newspaper. "Carlisle I just received a terrible telephone call. My mother thinks Father has influenza. _The influenza._ And I thought perhaps... you could look at him?"

Carlisle's head peaked out from top of the newspaper and actually met her eyes. He sighed. "Yes. I could do that. You'll have to wake Edward, though."

OOOOOOOOOOO

Esme watched from a distance as Carlisle carefully examined Father. He took his temperature, listened to his heart, and then his lungs. Then he shook his head slowly and sighed. "I'm afraid you were right, Margaret. It's influenza. I'm so sorry. I can give him an aspirin to bring the fever down, but other than that, just keep rinsing him with washcloths and giving him water."

Mother immediately disappeared in to the kitchen to retrieve those things.

Meanwhile, Carlisle sighed and looked directly at Esme for the second time that night. "I'm so sorry, Esme. I thought I'd seen my last case of this in Europe. And with your father... I wish there was more I could do."

Esme threw herself into Carlisle's arms without even thinking about it, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her as well. "He has to recover, Carlisle. He _has_ to. Edward recovered, you know."

"I know," Carlisle replied in his gentle, comforting voice. Despite how terrified Esme was, her heart warmed at the love Carlisle was finally showing her.

Mother came back in with a glass of water, and Carlisle carefully helped Father swallow it. "Well, I am afraid I need to be going. I still have to work at the hospital, tommorow."

Esme nodded, loving that he cared enough about her father to come tonight anyway. "It's fine, Carlisle."

"Thank you for coming at all," Mother added. She smiled at Carlisle, and then looked sadly at Father.

"I need to stay here though," Esme told him softly as he walked to the door. "Edward is finally asleep again, and I can't leave Father right now anyway. What if..." her voice trailed off, as she couldn't brign herself to complete the terrible thought.

"I understand," Carlisle replied, looking at ther in the eyes again as he disappeared.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"The turkey is ready!" Mother called cheerfully, two weeks later, on Christmas Day.

"I just finished the mashed potatoes, too," said Esme as she put the pot on the table.

"There," said Amy proudly as she gave the gravy a final stir. "The gravy is perfect." With that, she poured it into the gravy boat and placed that on the table as well.

Esme breathed in all of the wonderful smells of the Christmas dinner with a smile on her face. Even better was the sounds of her whole family walking into the kitchen. Father walked into the room and sat at the front of the table, just as he always did. Forunately, he'd recovered from the influenza last week. Esme loved to see him looking healthy and ready to eat.

Tim ran into the kitchen almost faster than a racehorse. "Tim, slow down please," Mother leactured him. He frowned a little as he sat down, but quickly smiled again. Esme was happy to see that. Frowns had no place on such a joyful day.

Carlisle strolled in and smiled right at Esme with love in his eyes. "It smells wonderful," he told her in his sweet gentle voice.

"Thank you, Carlisle," Esme replied, as her heart swelled again. After her father recovered, Esme had fallen into Carlisle's arms that night when she finally returned home.

 _"He's going to be all right, Carlisle!" Esme exclaimed, kissing his face everywhere. "You cured him."_

 _"Well, I helped anyway," he replied humbly. "But I'm so glad he's recovered." Carlisle's blue eyes sparkled with love. But he looked at her uncertainly, as if he didn't know how to proceed._

 _"Carlisle," Esme sighed. "I'm trying to be patient with you, but_ why _have you been so distant towards me since you've come home?"_

 _Looking at the floor, Carlilse had explained what had happened with Siobhan during an incredibly weak moment. "I can't believe I was unfaithful, even for a second, Esme," Carlisle mumbled._ " _When I first arrived home and I tried kisisng you, I saw Siobhan's face instead of yours. I don't know how to deal with this, Esme."_

 _Hearing that Carlisle lips had touched another woman had been painful, especially considering this wasn't a chaste kiss. But Esme looked into her husband's sad, guilty eyes and told him, "It's all right." Then she gave him a long wonderful kiss that sent them both to the rooftops._

After all, his shame made it clear how much Carlisle regretted it. Esme simply wanted her husband back, and now he was.

Alan and Junior somehow appeared seated already.

Linda walked in slowly, with Nathan and Edward holding onto her hands. "Hello Edward," said Esme as she lifted her son into his high chair. "Are you ready for Christmas Dinner?"

"Dinner!" Edward agreed.

But first, Father stood up to say grace. "We thank thee Lord for this wonderful Christmas bounty. We also thank thee for the peace that you've blessed us with this year, particularly considering you've brought all of the young men here home."

Esme paused and looked at Carlisle and both of her brothers as he said that. Thank you, indeed.

"And we thank thee for restoring George's health," Mother added, looking straight at Father as she spook.

"Amen," everyone at the table agreed sincerely.

"Edward would you like some turkey?" Esme asked her son, as she cut up a piece for him. Then she handed the platter to Carlisle, loving how their hands touched at the same time.

"What about some mashed potatoes? Alan, can you pass the mashed potatoes?" Esme called to her brother.

Her brother stared off into space for several moments, before Mother finally handed the potatoes to Esme. Amy had said he'd been doing that a lot lately. Sometimes he'd say strange things that made no sense, too. Esme figured he'd return to normal soon enough. Just like Carlisle had. In the meantime, she dished the mashed potatoes onto Edward's plate.

After filling Edward plate, Esme placed mouthwatering turkey, potatoes, and peas on her own plate. As she took a bite, Edward babbled, "Da Da tatoes," before scooping a huge bite of potatoes off his plate.

Most of the potatoes ended up on Edward's face rather than in his mouth, but Carlisle still grinned at the name. As did Esme. Her heart felt almost as big as the turkey today. Their family seemed to have everything they lost before. Everyone was home and happy. Father was healthy. Edward knew who his father was. And Carlisle and Esme were enjoying a happy marriage once again. Carlisle was correct again. Christmas was a season for miracles.

 **Thank you for all the reviews from the last chapter.**

 **Please give me some reviews for this one as well.**

 **Here's your responses.**

 **Bluebelles: Yes, it's sad that Carlisle missed so much of Edward's babyhood, but that happens to soldiers. At least now he's home.**

 **Bloomandgrow: Yes, Esme's character is very artistic, so it's a good therapy for her. And poor Edward, catching the influenza. :( Glad you like my writing. And Merry Christmas if I don't hear from you until then.**

 **Emerald Star: Yes, I think any human Edward would catch the 1918 flu virus, whether he's big or small. But at least he didn't die this time.**


	17. Epilogue: The Leagcy of the War

Epilogue: The Legacy of the War

 **Disclaimer: I don't own** _ **Twilight.**_

A week after their wonderful Christmas, it happened. Father became sick again. Once again, he developed a terrible cough and an extremely high fever. And when Father struggled to breathe, Mother finally brought him to the hospital, where they put him on one of those new oxygen machines.

"How could this happen, Carlisle?" Esme whispered, looking at her Father's pale face and weak body lying on the hospital bed. "He'd healed! Just last week he was eating Christmas Dinner with us and walking around my mother's house."

Carlisle's sad blue eyes looked back at her. "Sometimes this happens with influenzas' victims. It happened with some of the soldiers, too. They recover from the influenza, but then the lung infection takes over."

 _Lung infection?_ That sounded familiar to Esme. Could that possibly what had killed Thomas as well? A lump settled into her throat, and Esme tried to swallow it over and over again. Why did that horrible disease have to take so many family members from her? "Is there any hope for him?" Esme whispered to her husband.

Carlisle sighed and looked at Father. "We'll all do our best; I promise you. But pneumonia is rather difficult to treat."

Esme swallowed another lump in her throat at that. _He'll do his best. He'll do his best,_ she repeated. What better doctor could Father have than Carlisle?

OOOOOOOOOO

Unfortunately, Carlisle's best wasn't good enough to save Father after all. Nor was Dr. Pinero's or any of the other doctors working at the hospital. Instead, Esme's whole family gathered in their little neighborhood church for his funeral two weeks later. Somehow, a disease that had killed half of the people on Earth in 1918 killed Father in 1919 instead.

Mother sat in the front pew, with Junior, Tim, Camille and Linda next to her. Alan perched himself right behind them along with Amy and little Nathan. Esme sat next to Carlisle behind her brother with Edward, who she held tightly on her lap. The boy obviously heard the organ and desperately wished to play it as well. "No," Esme told her son softly but firmly, still clutching to him.

Behind them were many locals who knew Father from church or had worked for him as farm hands in the past. Everyone wore black, and the church felt so much darker than the happy place that Esme had spent so much of her childhood. Was this really the same church she had attended her first dance? Esme's mind flashed to the time she'd danced with her father in the church basement when she was only twelve years old. They had both worn huge smiles. _Oh, Father!_ she thought as her heart ached all over again.

Her thoughts stopped short as Pastor Douglass stepped up to the pulpit and greeted everyone. Esme fantasized about punching him for second, as irrational as it was. What was that man doing, _welcoming_ everyone to a funeral with a smile and saying how they should rejoice that her father was in heaven? He belonged on Earth! Esme clasped Edward again, this time to prevent herself from moving.

Then Pastor Douglass began reading. "But at daybreak on the first day of the week they took the spices they had prepared and went to the tomb. They found the stone rolled away*... Esme's mind drifted away after that. What did it matter that Jesus rose from the dead if her father was gone?

Instead her mind drifted to memories of her father. Like the proud smile on his face when he first met Edward. Or the way his strong arm prevented her from fainting when she walked down the aisle to marry Carlisle. Father's confident voice saying the prayer for Thanksgiving Dinner, and every night when she ate dinner with her family as a child. The way Father helped convince her mother to let her go to school in the city. He was always more understanding than Mother, especially when Esme was a teenager. Many times, when she and Mother were both too stubborn to listen to each other, Esme found Father would listen.

Now Father couldn't listen to her anymore.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

It didn't take Esme long to realize that although Father was gone, Carlisle was still here to lend both ears. At least Esme knew she could depend on Carlisle, now that she was certain he still loved her. "What am I going to do without my Father?" she asked him that night, after the funeral.

Her Carlisle had no answers, but he still looked at her with tenderness when she spoke.

OOOOOOOOOO

"I thought Father would watch Edward grow up," Esme sighed after she put Edward to bed another night. "I was looking forward to him having so many grandparents in his life. Father's parents died when I was young, and Mother's parents don't live nearby. I thought it would be so nice for Edward to have three grandparents…"

Carlisle looked directly at her and nodded. "I know. At least he still has two of them left."

"For now," Esme couldn't stop herself from saying. "What if something happens to Mother, too? She's taking Father's death so hard. Or what if she gets sick as well? Even your father could die."

Carlisle sighed. "We will have to do our best to keep them healthy, Esme."

OOOOOOOOOOO

Another night, Esme dreamed she was back on the farm. _Mother busied herself with cooking dinner, and the smell of her famous cornbread filled the house. "Your Father and brothers will be in soon, and then we can eat," Mother promised._

 _Esme nodded as she imagined sinking her teeth into that warm, flaky cornbread. "Come on, Camille," she added, putting her sister in the high chair. "Dinner time."_

" _Din – din," Camille babbled, pounding her hands on the high chair._

 _Just then, the door opened and Junior and Alan walked inside. But Father did not._

When Esme woke up, she immediately understood why her father hadn't come in the house. He couldn't, because he was dead. He would never taste another piece of Mother's cornbread, or eat anything she made, for that manner. Suddenly tears filled her eyes.

Before long, her sobs woke Carlisle, and he wrapped his arms around her as she tried to explain. "My Father's," … sob, sob, "gone, Carlisle. How could he," … sniff, "be gone?"

Yet again, Carlisle didn't have any answers, but he didn't protest as she wetted his pajama shirt with her tears.

The next morning, she painted her sorrow onto her paper, as she often did. She was in the process of painting an image of herself crying. But as much as it often helped to channel her emotions on paper, it didn't seem to be working this time. Carlisle's love appeared more necessary right now. If Esme could ever learn to live without Father, it would be because of her husband.

OOOOOOOOOOO

"Happy Birthday to you,

Happy Birthday to you,

Happy Birthday dear Edward,

Happy Birthday to you,"

Edward clapped his hands with delight as everyone sang to him. "Cak," he babbled, pointing at the chocolate cake with vanilla frosting Esme had baked especially for his birthday.

"That's right," replied, smiling at how happy her son was. "I baked that for you. Daddy will help you blow out the candles."

Carlisle nodded silently and leaned over the table and blew out two single candles. Edward clapped his hands in delight again. It was wonderful that Carlisle was able to celebrate their son's birthday party with them this year.

"Cak," Edward said, pounding his fists on the table.

"It appears our Edward is becoming a bit impatient for the cake," Mother commented with a small smile. "I think we should cut it soon." Esme smiled as well and nodded, realizing that this was the first time since Father had died that either of them had done so.

"I must lead a prayer before hand," Rev. Cullen announced, stepping into the middle of the room, like he was the most important person there.

Esme nodded, remembering how her father – in – law had insisted on praying before anyone ate the cake last year as well. "Of course," she said as nicely as she could, although Edward continued to fuss and point to the cake.

" _We thank thee Lord for giving this wonderful little boy two years and for allowing all of us to gather to celebrate. In your name we pray, Amen,"_ Rev. Cullen's voice boomed in his "minister's voice."

"Amen," echoed the guests, who were more used to the prayer this year than they were the last. Esme noticed that at least one voice was missing, though. Her father's. Father would have loved to see Edward turn two. But she shook her head firmly before anyone noticed and began cutting the cake. Her son's happiness was what was important today, and she knew he couldn't wait to put his mouth into the cake.

"Cak!" Edward babbled again as Esme placed it in front of him. With a huge grin, he grabbed a fist full of cake and frosting and put his fist in his mouth. Chocolate and vanilla covered his face, but Edward's grin spread all the way to his ears.

Esme gave another small smile as she watched her son, and then carefully cut the rest of the cake for the other guests. She was surprised to see Alan didn't pay any attention to the cake when she set in front of him, though. Instead, he's stared off into space, like he'd done at Thanksgiving and Christmas.

"Alan?" Esme whispered gently into her brother's ear.

To Esme's surprise, her brother tried to pull her closer and kiss her on the lips. On instinct, she squirmed away as she used to do when her brother tried to grab her when they were both children. Then Esme stared at her brother in shock for several moments. "What are you doing?" she whispered. She loved her brother, but she'd never had a desire to kiss him like that, nor did she think he ever would, either. In fact, the only man Esme ever wanted to kiss in that manner was Carlisle.

Alan was getting stranger and stranger as time went on. When would he get better? Esme decided to talk to Amy as soon as she finished handing out the treats.

At that moment, Carlisle's gentle blue eyes met Esme's as he took a bite of chocolate cake. As she stared back at him, he gave her that smile he used only for her. She still didn't know how she would get over her father's death, or whatever was wrong with Alan, but Esme's heart still clung to him like a lifeline.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

OOOOOOO

"Carlisle, what's happening?" Esme asked him one night, horrified at what she'd heard on the telephone earlier. The whole house seemed cold with fear.

"I don't know, Esme," Carlisle replied sadly. Everything in his wife's life seemed to be crumbling around her after the war ended, and Carlisle didn't know what to do about that. For some reason, Carlisle had believed when he returned to the United States, everything would return to normal.

But as soon as he arrived home, he realized how wrong that was. First, Edward thought Carlisle was a stranger. Then he couldn't stop thinking of the mistake he'd made with Siobhan whenever Carlisle looked at his Esme. Fortunately, those dilemmas were fixed within a few weeks of his return. But then came the bigger problems. Esme's father George Platt, caught the influenza virus that attacked so many of the soldiers Carlisle had treated in Europe. Carlisle had been certain he'd seen the last of that virus when he crossed the Atlantic last fall, but apparently not. To make matters worse, pneumonia had set in George's lungs just after he'd recovered, and that killed him. Esme struggled for the last two and a half months to understand her father's death, but it didn't seem to be working.

Edward's birthday was only a brief island of happiness in a sea of grief.

But what had happened to Esme's brother, Alan? How could the nice man who had married and planned to take over the Platt farm someday have changed so much? "I knew he'd been acting strange," Esme sighed, as she stared into Carlisle's eyes.

Carlisle nodded, remembering the way Alan stood up at attention at Thanksgiving Dinner and the way he'd often stared into space. "I noticed that, too," he replied, wishing he could give Esme more answers.

"I was getting worried about him, especially after what happened on Edward's birthday. Did you see how he tried to kiss me in a _non – sisterly_ way when I tried to give him his cake?" Esme asked, shivering a little.

Carlisle paused and tried to recall the incident. "Yes, I remember that now. You were quite upset, but I knew you didn't want to call attention to it. So, I tried to make you feel better with my expression."

Esme smiled briefly. "You did help, Carlisle," Esme promised him. "You helped so much that day. And you still do." She leaned over and gave him a small kiss.

Carlisle smiled briefly back at her, happy to hear that he did help. He really didn't know whether he was doing the right things or not.

"But Alan," Esme continued, returning to the former topic. "Even thought I was worried about him, I _never_ thought he'd try to hurt anyone, much less little Nathan! I thought he loved his son, Carlisle." Stray tears began to drip down her face. "I couldn't believe it when Mother explained what happened. He was supposed to be planting the corn, but instead he attempts to attack Nathan with a rake. From what I understand, if he had move another six inches, Nathan would have been killed! Why, Carlisle?" she asked again, as she buried her head into his chest.

"I don't know, Esme," Carlisle replied, gently wrapping his arms around her. He tried to warm his wife with his heart, as much as the fear chilled him as well.

"I guess the doctors who came to take him away said he had something called, 'shell – shock.' Have you ever heard of that? I certainly haven't. I can't believe my brother has become…. crazy," she whispered.

Carlisle searched his mind for everything he'd heard on the base hospital and everything he'd read about since returning home. "I think I vaguely remember reading something about it. But the doctors don't know much more about this condition than anyone else. I hear the doctors that will treat Alan are specialists, though, so hopefully they will help him," he added as he looked deep into Esme's green eyes, trying to touch her soul with that last statement.

Esme nodded. "I hope so. I hate to think of Amy raising Nathan by herself. There's no way Alan could really be… crazy."**

OOOOOOOOOOO

Esme seemed to improve a little when she discovered they were going to have another baby. She still desperately missed her father, but they both loved the idea of new life in their family. She would often stroke her stomach with a soft smile on her face. Once she even sketched a picture of Edward and the new baby together, which pleased Carlisle immensely, as his wife had appeared to lose interest in art for the last couple of months.

Still, Esme couldn't seem to understand why she had to lose her father in order to gain another child. And what of Alan? A few months past without word of her older brother, so Esme wondered if he would ever recover. Carlisle tried to teach her to pray "The Lord is my Shepherd," something that had helped him tremendously after Thomas died, but he wasn't certain if was helping her. Still, he kept praying with her. After all, sometimes these things took time. At least she hadn't blamed Carlisle for George's death like she'd blamed him for their first son's.

Meanwhile, Dr. Pinero had finally hired more doctors at the hospital, so Carlisle was no longer considered "the young doctor," there. On the contrary, these new young doctors looked up to him much like the young doctors in the army once did. Carlisle had to admit, he enjoyed mentoring them. Dr. Pinero also rewarded Carlisle with a raise. It allowed him to buy one of those brand - new Ford motorcars that everyone was so excited about.

Carlisle also offered to hire a maid to help Esme around the house. He knew she could use the extra help, considering all the chores she was responsible for, plus caring for Edward. And since he was well aware how tiring pregnancy was for a woman, he thought it was a great idea.

Esme disagreed. "No, Carlisle, I don't wish to have a maid yet."

Carlisle sighed. "Esme, don't worry about not being able to do everything. I'll still love you if you have someone helping you cook the meals and do the laundry," he finished with a chuckle. He knew Esme enjoyed taking care of the people she loved, but it was obviously becoming too much for her. Yesterday he'd found three black socks mixed with his ties.

"Besides, I love to see you painting and sketching more again. You need to have time for that, too." Especially as art had always helped Esme when she was upset. What happened with George and Alan still bothered her greatly. "And since I can afford it, there's no problem," Carlisle finished in his calm but firm voice. He often used the same tone to convince a stubborn patient to take his or her medicine.

Esme smiled. "I'd simply rather wait until school starts and invite a girl to 'work for board.' I had some problems with the Bishops, but I'm eternally grateful for them providing for my education and room and board. If I could do that for another young girl who desperately wishes to go to school, it would be so wonderful."

Carlisle melted. He loved how large his wife's heart was, and this was truly a sign that she was recovering from what had happened to her family. Esme had always looked for ways to help others. "I'll ask around and see if I can find an appropriate young lady. You're such an incredible mother, Esme," he whispered as he stroked her stomach.

OOOOOOOOOOO

When school started in the fall, Bree Tanner arrived, and immediately assumed all the laundry. Edward also adored her, so the girl could often be found reading to the boy while Esme painted or napped. And of course, Bree bonded with Esme much more than Esme ever did with Mrs. Bishop. Carlisle wasn't at all surprised that it seemed the girl seemed to see Esme as a second mother. Bree would ask Esme her opinion on a poem or an essay. And Esme would gently correct her if her dinner etiquette was incorrect that night.

OOOOOOOOOOOO

"Rosalie Cullen," Esme's mother smiled as she looked at her granddaughter, who was only two days old. "She's adorable. Look at those big eyes and that beautiful blonde hair." She patted the baby's head.

"Isn't she, though?" Esme asked, holding their baby securely in her arms on the hospital bed. "You're so wonderful, aren't you Rosalie?" she sang.

Rosalie gave a little yawn and closed her eyes again.

Carlisle smiled as he watched the women interact. Joy radiated from all of them, and it was so nice to see. Especially considering how dark this year had been for Esme and Margaret, and even for Carlisle, trying to put the Great War behind him. Rosalie's birth really was a new beginning.

* **LK, 24: 1 - 2 St. Joesph ed.**

** **For the record, Alan's "shell – shock" treatment doesn't work the way they hoped, as doctors had an extremely poor understanding of how to treat those conditions back then. In fact, it may be argued that the treatment was worse the than the illness in some ways. (Think "human Alice in the institution" for those of you who are familiar with canon Twilight, for what happens to Alan. :(** **) Of course, Alan's symptoms are only some of the different ways shell – shock/PTSD are manifested, and people of that time responded to said symptoms in a lot of different ways.**

 **Originally, I was going to write several other stories for this series. But the reality is that I'm not interested in writing most of them right now, so I don't know if I will. I** _ **do**_ **plan to write a short story about ten – year – old Edward receiving his first piano within a few months for the YLOFA series, so you can look for that if you'd like.**

 **Said story will also include Carlisle/Esme moments and historical contest (for 1927) because I'm, well… me. :)**

 **Here's some responses for the last chapter. Please consider giving me a review for this one as well.**

 **Bluebelles: I'm glad you liked the last chapter, although I agree, it is sad that Edward didn't know Carlisle at first. But as babies and toddlers have very short - term memories, that's usually what happens. Fortunately, it doesn't last long.**

 **Bloomandgrow: I had thought about adding another chapter after "home" (before the epilogue), but I thought about it and realized I didn't have enough material for that. I think it works better this way.**

 **Glad you think I did well showing what happened when men returned home. I don't know if I really did what happened to Alan justice in this, but the reality is that they're not sure what happened yet. Plus, they have other things on their mind. I do plan to mention more about Alan (if only in thoughts), in the 1927 story.**

 **But regardless, thanks again for all the through reviews, and I know I'll see you again in my other multi – chapter stories.**

 **Emerald Star: Thanks for all the reviews for each chapter as well. And yes, you were right about Edward associating "Daddy" with paper. But like you said, they also fixed the problem quickly.**

 **Edward and Rosalie will be my only "Cullen children" for this universe. I see Emmett as more of Rose's husband than a sibling. Alice will have a different role in the 1927 story, which you are welcome to discover if you wish. And Jasper, once again, is more of "Alice's husband" than a sibling. Besides, Edward and Rosalie resemble Carlisle and Esme more physically, so that's another reason why it makes sense that they are the "Cullen children," here.**


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